Twenty Fics
by BlackFox12
Summary: Twenty one-shots that are all connected in that they contain some form of spanking... but can each stand on their own and are a variety of different fandoms and pairings. Twentieth Christine by Stephen King. Dennis drags his best friend back
1. A Kept Thief (Bastille Day)

**A Kept Thief**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from the movie Bastille Day and I'm not making any money from this fic

 **Summary:** Tag to the movie. A 'missing scene' between Michael and Briar

 **Warning(s):** Spanking; spoilers for the whole movie; probable AU; some mentions of violence; some brief swearing

 **Pairing:** Briar/Michael - slash

 **Author's Note:** I liked the idea of doing the month of mini-ficlets and writing in different fandoms. Since I am in so many different fandoms, I thought I'd do sets of twenty one-shots that are all connected in that they contain some form of spanking... but can each stand on their own and are a variety of different fandoms and pairings.

Feel free to make requests. If I feel inspired by any ideas, I'll give credit to the reader whose idea I'm using... and even if it's not a fandom I write in, I always add more to the books I read, movies/television series I watch... etc.

* * *

Fleeing had been a mistake. Just one more mistake in several days... but when Michael stared at the chip in his hand, _knowing_ he would never have to steal again... he didn't feel the sense of relief he'd been expecting to. He had enough money that he could do whatever he wanted... but when he'd been working with Briar (even though the other man was dangerously reckless), he'd been doing... _something_. Something worthwhile.

It had become clear to Michael that Briar? Well, the guy was a loose cannon and Michael was certain he didn't have any problem with 'collateral damage' (call it a hunch), but they _had_ connected while working and Briar _had_ trusted him... well, insomuch as he could trust anyone, Michael supposed.

And he hadn't been lying when he'd talked about wanting a job. They'd worked well together, at least as far as Michael could tell. Once he'd got past the initial problem with being arrested and accused of something he wouldn't have ever even _considered_ being a part of. He'd been able to do something worthwhile... and he wanted to continue doing that.

Was Briar likely to come hard after him? It was likely. Michael knew he wasn't going to get a free pass just because the two of them had worked well together. And that was why he knew he needed to be the one to reach out to Briar. Because if he left it up to the other man... Briar would be there, guns blazing, shooting first... asking questions never.

Most of Michael's bridges had been burned. Almost everyone he'd tried to sell to had refused to touch him, he was too hot. Even if Michael _had_ been a part of trying to put things right... people had still died. And it still killed him, even if he _had_ been just focused on saving his own skin for a long time. As soon as he stopped and let it, the guilt crashed down on him. If he hadn't thrown the bag in the trash... if he had thought to wonder why a woman had been carrying an old, tattered teddy bear...

Well. Maybe people still would have died. But maybe it wouldn't have been quite so many. Maybe... just maybe... things could have been stopped before they reached the point of no return.

As he entered the apartment building, Michael pulled his hood further forward. He didn't think there was an APB out on him anymore... but it couldn't hurt to be safe. Besides, there was still the chance someone would see him... call the police; and Michael was certain it must have gone higher up than those he'd seen at the banks.

It hadn't been hard to find out where Briar was staying. The American was an obvious presence and the fact he hadn't left Paris yet suggested _he_ knew he had unfinished business... whether with Michael, or with the authorities.

The smell of pizza wafting from the box he held made Michael's stomach growl. He'd avoided most stores, only buying a small amount of food when the hunger became too intense. It wasn't as if he _wanted_ to die, after all. Still, passing by the back of a delivery truck had been too good an opportunity to resist... and even if he couldn't sell anything now, it wasn't as if Briar could blend in. Michael had put out feelers... which was why he was now here.

Stepping out of the elevator, Michael paused outside the door to Briar's apartment, for a moment considering turning round and leaving. With a sigh, he knocked lightly on the door. "Pizza delivery."

There was silence from the other side, but Michael imagined he could hear the safety being clicked off a gun. He had just enough time to think he should have found a way to call first, considering Briar's hair trigger finger, when the door was opened and he found his jacket gripped tightly.

Briar jerked Michael into the apartment, with enough force that he nearly dropped the pizza and would have lost his balance, were it not for Briar's grip on him.

Shoving the door closed, Briar turned on Michael, dragging him closer. "Do you have _any_ idea how many people are looking for you?"

"You told them about me?" Michael was surprised at the note of betrayal in his voice.

"Your face has been plastered all over the news since the bombing. _Everyone's_ looking for you. Why did you come to me?"

"I brought pizza."

Briar released him. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?"

Michael placed the box on the table and resisted the urge to smooth his jacket down. "Why do you think I came here?"

A wary look came over Briar's face. "I'm not going to help you escape with all that money."

"If you really thought I would do that, you would have shot me by now."

"Don't push your luck."

Michael waited, but when it seemed Briar wasn't going to ask, he changed the tone of his voice and prompted, "What are you doing here?" Shifting back to his normal voice, he said, "I'm glad you asked, Briar. I _really_ want a job."

"I'll need that chip." Briar held out his hand.

"I think I'm going to need to hold onto it. For a while."

"And how am I going to trust you to hand it over?"

" _I_ came to _you_."

"And you want me to trust that you won't disappear again," Briar said. "Why shouldn't I make some calls and have you locked away?"

"Because that's not how you operate." Forestalling whatever Briar was about to say next, Michael added, "And without me, you won't be able to reach it at the source. We both know the team was only one rung in the ladder."

"You're assuming too much."

"I'm guessing you're pissed at me for bailing."

"What was your first clue?"

"You want to take a swing at me?" Michael spread his arms. "Go ahead. Get your anger impulses out of the way and then we can talk and plan. And if you _really_ want to call someone? Better make sure it's someone we can actually trust."

"We aren't partners." Briar stepped closer to Michael.

"Not right now... that doesn't mean we _can't_ be." Michael couldn't help but tense up the closer Briar got to him. He'd never been punched before. He prided himself on never having been caught before Briar had come into the picture. Well... before he'd been partially responsible for the bombing, at least.

Instead of throwing a punch, Briar gripped Michael's shoulder. Pulling him close, he pressed his lips against Michael's in a hard kiss.

Surprised... though not unpleasantly so... Michael pressed closer to Briar, though the other man didn't let him take control of the kiss. Briar's grip on his shoulder wasn't comfortable... and Michael could feel Briar's beard scratching against his skin.

When Briar separated from the kiss, Michael found it hard to speak at first. "That was unexpected."

"I'm not going to hesitate when I want something."

"Or _someone_ , I guess." Michael pulled gently at his shoulder. "Are you going to let me go?"

"Not yet." Briar led Michael over to the couch, his grip strong enough to force Michael to step along with him if he didn't want to risk being choked. More concerned with not tripping over his own feet, Michael didn't realise what was about to happen until he found himself off balance and upended, suddenly staring at the carpet... which, this close, looked much less clean than it had at first glance. "Didn't you clean this when you moved in?"

"That seems an odd thing to be asking me when you're in this position."

"There doesn't seem to be much point in asking what's happening when it's quite obvious." Michael rested one hand on the carpet, avoiding the worst stains, and placed his other hand on the couch. He couldn't help feeling a little dazed... not to mention this felt embarrassing... but it was probably better than getting punched in the stomach. Or whatever else Briar might have done.

Michael jumped when he felt Briar's fingers slide between his pants and bare skin. He felt the other man tugging and automatically lifted his hips, making it easier for Briar to tug his pants down. While he wasn't looking forward to this... he'd rather get it over with.

With his pants and boxers pushed down, Michael felt himself flush as Briar pushed up the edge of his shirt, baring his entire backside, from the crest down to mid-thigh.

The cool air ghosted over Michael's backside for only a few seconds before the first smack landed with considerable force. Michael jerked and hissed out a breath... then couldn't help groaning as Briar landed another swat next to the first and then two more just below them.

As the smacks landed down to his thighs, Michael couldn't help squirming over Blair's lap. He tried to hold still and accept what the other man clearly felt he deserved... but it was hard as Blair started over from the top and Michael began squirming as his backside was heated up under the hard smacks.

About halfway through the second circuit, Briar began speaking. "If you hadn't decided to come and turn yourself in to me, I would be hunting you about now. With extreme prejudice."

"Good job I made the right decision, then," Michael gasped out.

Briar's hand began coming down a bit harder and faster... though whether it was in response to Michael's comment or not, he couldn't tell. "You've made a lot of bad decisions since dumping that bag. One good decision doesn't negate all of those."

"Don't I get any credit for working with you in the first place?" It was hard to focus, even though the smacks weren't very hard. There were swats to his sit spots and thighs that his legs kicked in response to.

"Yeah... but you came into the bank after me. I told you to stay safe."

"I didn't have a choice," Michael muttered. "Besides, if it wasn't for us... you would have been shot."

"It wasn't your job to put yourself in danger. It's mine."

Michael twisted his head round to stare at Briar. "Are you serious? You had no problem threatening my life several times!"

"I would never have actually done it. I take unconventional methods to get the job done, it's true. But I'm not as trigger-happy as my file suggests."

Michael snorted softly and looked back round, though he was relieved to have that reassurance. He winced as the spanking resumed, trying not to act like it hurt... but it didn't take long before he was squirming once more.

"I'm not making any promises on you working with me... but from now on, you _will_ listen to what I tell you to do. If I tell you to stay somewhere, you _will_ stay there. And if you take off again?"

"You'll shoot me?"

"No. I'll take my belt to you."

Michael winced at the threat... but was soon wincing as Briar's hand landed on the creases between his sit spots and thighs. "I get it!" he hissed out, startled to realise his eyes were beginning to fill with tears.

"Good. I'd hate to think I couldn't trust you."

Michael swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. "You can trust me..." he said softly, realising how close he was to breaking down. But he knew that, despite the attraction between them, he hadn't exactly proved himself willing to stay and work with Briar. There was no reason for the other man to trust him... not until he earned it.

Michael drew in his breath sharply as he felt his eyes grow damp. The first quiet sob caught him by surprise... and perhaps it did Briar as well, because the spanking came to a stop and Michael felt his back rubbed gently before he hissed as his underwear and pants were pulled back into place.

No longer held in place, Michael carefully pushed himself up from Briar's lap. Before he could straighten fully, though, his arm was grabbed and he was pulled off balance, landing on Briar's lap with a sound that sounded like, "Oomph!"

Anything else Michael might have said was cut off by Briar's lips pressed to his once more. Shrugging, he decided catching the official could wait a few minutes longer and situated himself closer to the other man, pressing in close as the kiss grew deeper and became more intense.

 **The End**


	2. Dangerous Intentions (Captain Scarlet)

**Dangerous Intentions**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from the television series Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons and I'm not making any money from this fic

 **Summary:** Set several episodes into the season. Captain Blue has had enough of his friend putting himself in danger. Indestructible or not, Captain Blue knows Captain Scarlet's behaviour is dangerous.

 **Warning(s):** Spanking; spoilers for most of the original series of Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons; AU; some references to violence

 **Author's Note:** Second of the twenty random fics. For those who don't know, the basic premise of the series is a war between an alien race from Mars called the Mysterons and humans.

The Mysterons kill humans and replace them with their own constructs that are virtually indestructible and identical to the humans they replace, but they work to the Mysterons' agenda. The first episode saw that happen to Captain Scarlet and he attempted to capture the President. A face-off between him and Captain Blue ended with Captain Scarlet shot and falling from a great height... but he wasn't killed; and, in fact, his original personality returned, leaving him with the ability to heal from even fatal wounds and also to occasionally sense other Mysteron agents.

Captain Scarlet's real name is Paul Metcalfe. Captain Blue's real name is Adam Svenson. They're both officers in the organisation Spectrum.

* * *

There wasn't even a scratch on his body; no sign of any of the wounds (even the fatal ones). There was no visible sign of how different he now was... how _alien_.

Scarlet stared at his reflection in the console and pulled at his skin, as if he could see the Mysteron technology working under the surface; repairing his cells at an alarmingly fast rate.

How long was he going to live for now? How long would the technology keep healing him for? Was he going to outlive everyone he cared about? Or would his healing ability just run out at the worst time?

These were fears Scarlet hadn't confined to anyone else; not even his best friend, Adam, codenamed Captain Blue. They were partners most of the time, which meant Adam needed to know his fears about what was happening to him.

But Scarlet couldn't bring himself to voice any of it. Adam still saw him as an ordinary human... to the point he worried every time Scarlet did something dangerous.

Scarlet couldn't bring himself to cause Adam to look at him differently.

Even though he knew he should return home; or, at the very least, go to one of the rooms set aside for the members of Spectrum, Scarlet was reluctant to leave his post... even though he didn't actually need to be there. He couldn't sleep, because when he closed his eyes, he saw everything he should have forgotten. He kept reliving his first death... and all of the events leading up to it.

But he couldn't tell _any_ of them he remembered.

Scarlet glanced up as Adam walked over. One of their comrades had come to relieve him and Adam stopped in front of Scarlet. "You've worked longer than required, so maybe it's time to take a break."

"I don't need to sleep." The response was _supposed_ to sound confident. Instead, to Scarlet's own ears, he sounded exhausted.

Adam must have noticed, because he looked temporarily disbelieving before he grasped Scarlet's arm. "Okay. You don't have to sleep, but we _do_ need to talk."

Scarlet exchanged a nod with Lieutenant Green and then allowed Adam to lead him from their post. "Where are we going?" he asked, a small, paranoid part of him wondering if Adam no longer trusted him and was about to drag him before Colonel White, either for an official reprimand or to be forced to leave Spectrum.

Neither would surprise Scarlet and he wasn't sure he could blame them if they didn't trust him. He didn't trust himself, after all.

Adam didn't answer with words, but he kept his hand on Scarlet's arm as he walked into the main part of Spectrum headquarters, moving down the corridors until he reached the room that had been assigned to him.

Adam put his hand up to the scanner and green light flashed over his palm for a second before the door slid open.

The room wasn't really sized large enough for two operatives to stay inside, but Adam took a seat on the bed and looked at Scarlet.

"Do you need me to keep watch while you sleep?" Scarlet was tired and couldn't help the note of confusion in his voice.

"No... but I think maybe you do."

"I'm fine."

"Are you?" Adam asked directly. "You aren't acting normal, Paul. Before the Mysterons took control of you, you wouldn't have had a problem with resting and sleeping. You might have overworked yourself, but not to the point where I can see the dark circles under your eyes and know that sleeplessness isn't something the Mysterons left you with."

Scarlet flinched at the use of his real name. Even in his head, he didn't use his old, human name. Paul signified a part of his life that was now over. He wasn't Paul anymore... he was Captain Scarlet; and he had to embrace that identity fully. "Staying awake isn't going to kill me."

"No. But it will _get_ you killed. And maybe you can heal any wound that's dealt to you, even fatal ones... but none of us understand how it works. What if the healing factor runs out?" Pausing, Adam added, "And the reckless way you keep acting... it's not a good habit to get into. Not when there are other ways that don't end with you getting hurt, however temporary that might be."

The way Adam was sitting... and he was stood in front of him... Scarlet couldn't help feeling like a child about to get punished. Adam was voicing things he would expect to hear in an official reprimand, but being in his friend's room, with only the two of them, lent a more personal air. "I get things done."

"And when you crash? What happens then?"

Scarlet wasn't sure he knew what Adam meant. He was too worn down to think of anything other than the possibility of him reverting to the Mysteron programming. "If need be, I know you'll do what it takes to take me out."

Adam frowned, his brow furrowed in confusion. His face then cleared, though the frown was still in place. "That wasn't what I was referring to. Besides, I don't think you'll revert back to that programming. I _trust_ you, Paul."

"Don't call me that."

"You can't just take on the identity of Captain Scarlet and ignore everything else." Adam paused before continuing, "And you can't keep putting yourself in danger for no good reason. Not when we don't know if this immortality will even last." He sighed. "I could bring this before Colonel White, but I can't see making this official would do any good."

Scarlet had no idea where Adam was going with this, but whatever his friend planned to do, Scarlet could see it was troubling him. But instead of panic or wanting to fight the situation, Scarlet spoke in a quiet voice. "I trust you, Adam. You're my friend."

At that, Adam made eye contact with him... and then nodded, as if coming to a decision. "As I said, an official reprimand would be pointless. Colonel White could tell you to take leave, or suspend you, or only keep you back at base." He paused. "But if any of those were used, I know you would continue to carry out missions; and then you'd be without backup. So I'm going to handle it myself."

"How?" Scarlet wondered if he should be nervous. He understood the position Adam was in. He really did. And if it was the other way round, he knew he'd be just as concerned.

"I'm going to spank you." Adam said the words in a rush, but he continued to hold eye contact with Scarlet, even though he was blushing.

"I'll heal from whatever you do. Fast." Scarlet didn't know how he felt about Adam's words. If it wasn't for the serious nature of the situation, he would have assumed Adam was joking.

"I know," Adam replied seriously. "But you'll still feel it, which means it will be effective." He started to hold his hand out, then arrested the motion and patted his lap instead. "Come and lay over my knee, Paul. Let's get this done."

Scarlet faltered, not sure he could take the personal nature of the punishment. For just a second, he considered fleeing... or, rather, making a tactical retreat. He could leave the room before Adam would react and he was certain the other man wouldn't try to follow him.

But he had too much respect for Adam to do that.

It only took two steps for Scarlet to move round so he was stood next to Adam's knee. He bent slowly at the waist until he was stretched across Adam's knees, feeling the press of his thighs against his stomach.

Adam cleared his throat but didn't immediately speak and Scarlet wondered if his friend had thought things through past this point. For _his_ part, Scarlet wondered that he felt calmer than he thought he should.

Scarlet couldn't imagine what was about to happen would be pleasant, but it felt good to let Adam be in control... even if it was only for a short time.

"Your reckless behaviour needs to stop, Paul. You might be able to heal any wounds, but if the Mysterons can, they'll figure out a way to stop you. Maybe kill you for good."

Scarlet opened his mouth, but before he could respond, a smack landed on the seat of his trousers.

It didn't hurt. Not really. The next ones that landed didn't either, although the cumulative effect began to build until Scarlet felt a tingling sensation in his bottom and thighs.

Adam must have noticed the lack of response, because he paused and spoke softly. "I'm going to take your trousers down now, Paul."

Scarlet couldn't do more than grunt in acknowledgement, his face heating up as he felt Adam's fingers in the waistband of his trousers. With one sharp tug, Adam had them down to his ankles, followed by his underwear.

The faint tingling had gone now, but Scarlet winced when Adam's hand landed on his backside. He couldn't tell if his friend was using more force, or if it just _felt_ more intense due to being on the bare, but as Adam settled into a rhythm, working his way from the crest of Scarlet's backside down to his thighs, Scarlet found it nearly impossible to stay still. Tiny groans and whimpers escaped his clamped-tight lips and he felt his eyes grow wet with the beginnings of tears.

By the time Adam began covering skin he'd already swatted, Scarlet's whole world had shrunk down to the position he was in... and the reason _why_. Adam wasn't scared of what he'd become. If he was, he wouldn't be doing this.

Each smack seemed to echo in the room and they landed on their target, alternating between his bottom and thighs. Scarlet had been wounded before... much worse than this... but something about the repetitive nature of the punishment, and the personal aspect behind his friend doing this, made him react in a different way.

Scarlet knew he was close to losing control. The tears were running down his cheeks, though he managed to keep from audibly sobbing.

And then Adam started speaking. "I can't really understand what you must be going through. But it doesn't help that both Spectrum and the Mysterons consider you a weapon. But nothing's changed for me personally. You're still my friend. I still trust you with my life. And I'm _not_ going to stand by and watch you destroy yourself. So if it needs to, this will happen again."

Scarlet wanted to respond, but before he could say anything, he felt his body shifted forward. When Adam began addressing hard smacks to the creases between his bottom and thighs, he couldn't help squirming as he gasped quietly.

The smacks seemed to increase in force and speed and Scarlet felt his legs jerking. He threw his hand back, needing the spanking to pause... at least for a moment; long enough for him to collect himself and not lose control... like he was so close to doing.

Adam didn't speak, instead moving Scarlet's hand out of the way. Scarlet drew in a sharp breath as more smacks landed from Adam's heavy hand and he found his breath enough to voice half of a plea. "Adam... please..."

"You need to keep this in mind the next time you act without thinking, because if this happens again? I will take off my belt. Because you might not care about your safety, but _I do_. And I will do whatever it takes to stop you trying to destroy yourself. Am I understood?"

"Yes...!" Scarlet squirmed frantically as Adam's hand swatted harder and faster. He slumped across his friend's lap and felt something break inside of him as the tears came hard and fast.

It took a while for Scarlet to realise that Adam was no longer spanking him. He lay slumped across his friend's lap, trying to calm down... but it took a while for the strength of his sobs to die down.

As Scarlet began to calm down, he felt Adam pull his underwear and trousers back into place. Even though the action was gentle, it still made his backside throb and Scarlet had to choke back more tears.

Once his clothing was aback in place, Scarlet allowed Adam to help him up. Even with the thorough spanking, the pain was beginning to fade as his healing factor kicked in.

Adam wrapped his arm around Scarlet's shoulders, drawing him in close. "I want you to get some sleep now. I'll be here to watch your back. And I'm _always_ going to be here to watch your back."

Paul couldn't force himself to argue. Wiping at his eyes, he nodded as Adam pulled the blankets back from the bed. He carefully settled on the bed and closed his eyes, sleep overtaking him faster than anything else.

 **The End**


	3. Watch Your Back (Suicide Squad)

**Watch Your Back**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from the movie Suicide Squad and I'm not making any money from this fic

 **Summary:** Deadshot and Flag have a conversation

 **Warning(s):** Spanking; spoilers for the whole of the movie; some references to violence

 **Author's Note:** Third of the twenty fics. While not actually committed to it yet, I've considered trying to do a different fandom/fandom version for each story. (For instance, Avengers movies and Avengers comics would be two separate). Anyway... I wasn't planning for Suicide Squad, but the plot bunny bit hard, so... here we are.

* * *

He should be used to them dying by now.

It was easy not to think about the people he killed. He had his standards. He had rules he followed. And for the most part, the people he took out were scum. Those that weren't? Well, in any war, there were casualties. And if you pissed off the wrong people, you shouldn't be surprised to end up paying the ultimate price.

But... damn it... Diablo _shouldn't have had to die_. Sure, he'd pushed the other man to release the iron control he had over his emotions. He'd needed to know what the guy was capable of. Couldn't trust someone at your back if they might be a loose cannon, after all. And he'd become infinitely familiar with Harley Quinn's own brand of crazy... because all he had to do was expect anything and everything from her. They'd all fit the mould of a bad guy... and every single one of them had been (and still were) expendable.

But Diablo was the only one who, as far as Deadshot had been able to tell, didn't deserve the hand he'd been dealt.

He was alone in his cell, but that suited him fine. Flag had dropped off his daughter's letters... or, rather, Deadshot had assumed it was him. He couldn't imagine Waller giving him even an inch if she didn't have to. Or any of them. He'd assumed the others had got what they wanted... but apart from being let out occasionally for 'good behaviour', all he saw was the inside of his cell.

There was still the threat of being blown up. Most days, Deadshot told himself that was why he hadn't considered trying to escape. That... and he wanted his daughter to be proud of him. He only rarely admitted to himself that doing something worthwhile had felt better than he'd expected; better than he thought it had the right to.

Commotion brought Deadshot's attention to the door of his cell. Peering through the tiny slit, he could see prison guards running backwards and forwards. It would have been amusing... if he wasn't concerned that whoever was brazen enough to attack the prison was someone infinitely worse than the Enchantress.

The explosion came from right behind him and Deadshot whirled round, only relaxing a fraction when he saw a figure with spiked green hair standing where the wall had once been.

"Pudding!" Harley exclaimed. "I told you to make sure he wasn't in the path of the explosion!" The next moment, she laughed and flung her arms around the Joker. "Can we go now?" She looked at Deadshot and beamed. "I kept my promise...!"

"So I see." Deadshot looked at the couple, but didn't move. "You sure you want to take off like this, Harley?"

"She doesn't want to be here," the Joker answered for her. "She needs to be dancing... singing... painting the town red. She's wasted here." He grinned manically at Deadshot. "She wants you... and what my Queen wants, she gets."

Deadshot looked at Harley. "You don't want me to come with you."

Harley pouted and left the Joker's side to stand in front of him. "Why not? We don't owe any of them anything. And Flag killed Diablo..."

"Because I told him to. Diablo made his choice. I made mine. I have to be someone my daughter can trust." Deadshot looked at both of them. "You should leave now. Waller isn't going to take this lying down."

"I don't like to leave loose ends."

"Pudding, be nice." Harley kissed Deadshot's cheek and then skipped back to the Joker's side. "Try not to get yourself killed!" She blew him a kiss.

And then they were both gone.

* * *

"And you just let them go?"

"What did you expect me to do?" Deadshot kept his gaze on Waller, even though he was aware of Flag standing in one corner of the room. "You didn't leave me with any of my guns. Or knives. The Joker was fully armed and had a whole squad with him. If _your_ army couldn't stop him... what chance did I have?"

Waller scowled in Flag's direction. "I thought you put the chip back into her."

"It was disabled once. They probably did it again." Flag glanced at Deadshot, his gaze moving over the other man, then back to his boss. "He doesn't know anything. And even if he did... he wouldn't tell you."

"But he'd tell _you_." Waller frowned. "I've already lost three assets and the first mission is barely over. Take him back to the cell." She nodded to the other guards... a few of whom had bruises and black eyes.

"That's not necessary." Flag nodded to Deadshot. "You're not going to cause any problems if the two of us take a walk. Are you?"

Deadshot held up his cuffed hands. "My hands are tied."

Waller looked at Flag, unblinking. "You'd better know what you're doing."

Flag didn't make a verbal response. He motioned with his head to Deadshot and then walked towards the door of the interrogation room. His body remained stiff and tense until the two of them were outside and the door was closed behind them. Then, his shoulders slumped and he let out a weary sigh.

"How's your girlfriend doing?" Deadshot asked.

"June is... traumatised. I don't know if she's ever going to fully recover." Flag was quiet for a few seconds as they walked back to the cell. "Why didn't you go with them?"

Deadshot didn't respond. Instead, he asked, "Why didn't you activate the chip again?"

Flag was silent for several moments, glancing around. When he spoke, it was in a much quieter voice. "I deactivated all of the chips. Don't tell Waller."

"How crazy _are_ you? You know we're not going to fall in line and play by the rules. You just told me you took away the only reason I'm even part of your boss' experiment."

"Not the only reason. You're here for your daughter."

Deadshot fell silent, unwilling to admit Flag was right. Reaching the cell, he waited for Flag to open it up and then stepped inside. "If you were going to move my cell, you could have given me a better view."

Flag stepped into the cell and closed the door. "You know I'm not in charge of the cells."

"What do you want?" Deadshot knew none of the guards liked him very much, but since the return from the mission, they'd contented themselves with muttered comments and distrustful glances. He was reasonably sure Flag wasn't about to attempt beating on him... though he had seen firsthand the kind of hold Waller had over the man. Even with Flag's woman freed of the Enchantress' hold, Deadshot assumed Flag would carry out any instructions given him by the woman. "I didn't lie about not knowing where they are."

"I know," Flag answered. "But I'm a soldier. I lied to you and I withheld information you and the others; information you needed to complete the mission. Waller didn't believe I should have said anything... But I shouldn't have kept it a secret and I should have told you the truth when you asked. For that, I'm sorry."

"Okay. I accept your apology," Deadshot said. "But that still doesn't explain why you're stood in my cell."

"On a mission, with any group of soldiers, if I'd kept details from them, I'd be disciplined. Possibly court-marshalled."

"Seems to me your girl getting possessed and trying to destroy the whole world was discipline enough." Deadshot eyed the man in front of him. "What exactly do you want me to do? Beat on you for a bit? It's not like I can refuse to work with you. I'd like to get out of here sometime _before_ I can't move under my own power."

Flag looked like he was struggling internally. Finally, he removed his belt, threading it through the loops and doubling it over before holding it out.

Deadshot raised his eyebrows, but didn't take the belt. "You know they're going to hear."

"Hell, they'll think it's the other way round. No way they'll interrupt that."

"You sure you trust me enough to whip you?"

"You had my back on the mission. You didn't leave when handed an open escape route." Flag shrugged. "If I trust anyone to do this, it's going to be you."

Deadshot took the belt. The leather felt heavy in his hands and he took a couple of practise swings, listening to it whistle through the air. He glanced at Flag, taking in the other man's straight posture, hands clasped behind his back. Exactly like a soldier waiting to be disciplined by his superior.

Shaking his head, Deadshot locked eyes with him. "Pants down. Brace your hands against the wall."

Flag's expression didn't change as his hands went to the fastenings on his trousers. As he undid them and pushed them down, he walked towards the wall... and then let them fall the rest of the way as he placed his palms against the surface, bending forward slightly so his back was arched and his bottom stuck out.

Deadshot transferred the belt to a one-handed grip as he moved forward. He pushed Flag's boxers down to join his pants and then placed the same hand against his back to hold him steady.

The crack of the first strike took Deadshot by surprise and he watched as an angry red strike appeared parallel across Flag's buttocks. The other man didn't react, other than a slight intake of breath, and Deadshot brought the belt down a mere millimetre below the first stripe.

Deadshot continued in this vein until he'd given Flag ten strikes total and could see each individual stripe, from the crest of his bottom down to the tops of his thighs. Pausing a moment to admire his handiwork, he then started over from the top, landing each new stripe on the previous one.

By the time the second circuit was finished, Flag was alternating between grunting and gasping. Deadshot pressed a bit harder on his back and then began again.

By the end of the first circuit, Flag was reacting more, shifting from one foot to the other and huffing out sharp breaths. His hands, plastered to the wall as if stuck there, began to clench, the knuckles turning white.

Whatever it was Flag thought he was going to get from the thrashing... Deadshot could tell he wasn't anywhere close. And he could continue using the belt until Flag's backside was raw and bloody... but that was a line he was unprepared to cross.

Deadshot let the belt fall, then transferred his hand from Flag's back to the man's shoulder.

Flag went where Deadshot moved him and a glance at the man's face showed a terrible strain. He stumbled along without fighting as Deadshot guided him to the cot.

Deadshot sat and guided Flag across his knees. The man was stiff and tense, but didn't fight the position. Instead, he braced one hand on the floor and the other on the mattress.

Deadshot wrapped his arm around Flag's waist, though he wasn't sure why he was holding the other man in place when Flag had not only submitted, but had been the one to initiate this. Perhaps it was because the man didn't seem very steady.

Deadshot lifted his hand and brought it down firmly.

The difference was immediate; not only in the sound of flesh hitting flesh, but also in Flag's reaction. He jumped and then gasped as Deadshot settled into a rhythm, working his way over the other man's bottom, down to his thighs.

It didn't take long before Flag was shifting with each hard smack. Deadshot abandoned any set pattern, instead bringing his hand down in random spots... sometimes once; sometimes several times. He kept hold of Flag as the other man began to squirm and shift over his lap.

Deadshot paused, unable to discern the individual strikes from the belt, and rested his hand on Flag's back. "You don't need me to tell you what you did wrong. Waller might not have given you much of a choice... but you know going into that type of situation without that information might have got more people killed. Like Diablo. Maybe he was expendable to you... but he wasn't to _us_."

Flag's breath hitched and his voice sounded choked as he said, "He wasn't to _me_..."

Deadshot paused and moved his hand to Flag's back. "That was his decision."

Flag's breath was ragged. "He shouldn't have had to make it. I was... responsible. Waller's prepared to throw you all under the bus if she needs to. I thought I could... go along with it. But then..."

"Yeah. I wish I'd been able to save him too."

Flag slumped over Deadshot's lap and began to sob quietly. Realising he'd reached the point he needed to, Deadshot tugged his boxers and pants back into place, then helped Flag up off his lap. After a brief hesitation, he placed a hand on the other man's shoulder and squeezed gently.

Flag stayed close for a few seconds and then straightened, wiping at his eyes. "I'll make sure you know everything the next time."

Deadshot nodded. "I know. You'd better make sure no one sees your face when you leave."

"Yeah..." Flag drew in a deep breath. "Thanks. I appreciate this, even though you didn't get anything out of it."

Deadshot shrugged. "Way I see it... I did you a favour. You now owe me one."

 **The End**


	4. Made To Be (Until Dawn)

**Made To Be…**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from the video game Until Dawn and I'm not making any money from this fic

 **Spoiler-free summary:** Curses are made to be broken. At least that's what all the stories say

 **Longer summary:** Mike and Sam are the only ones who escaped the lodge alive, but no one believes what happened to them and plans are being made to rebuild the lodge. As the only two who know the truth about the wendigos, they reluctantly return to the mountain… only to find that maybe Chris had a point

 **Warning(s):** Spanking; spoilers for the entire Until Dawn games; AU; violence; sexual content/references; swearing

 **Author's Note:** This is an idea that's been in my head for quite a while during the course of playing the game… which is really addictive. Oh… and there's an extra character who's going to crop up. And it's the next story in the Twenty Fics.

* * *

It was never about sex.

When Mike woke with Sam curled up on the bed with him, he didn't react like the Mike of several months ago would have. He didn't make a move on her. She didn't make a move on him. It wasn't about sex. It wasn't about love. And if they'd managed to save any of the others, maybe they would have ended up in a big puppy pile on Mike's bed… curled up together for warmth, because who else could they turn to for comfort, when everyone around them thought they'd lost their minds?

Sam's warmth was a comfort. When Mike was having a good day, he could joke that the cold of the mountain had seeped into his bones… that he was so used to the extreme temperature, he didn't need the heaters on. And that was true. Everyone had noticed the differences; not just in the scars that covered areas he didn't let anyone see.

He had no qualms about showing off his body before. Now? Now, he knew full well the kind of reactions he would get. And he liked to tell himself that he'd grown up; he'd seen enough now that vanity was a low priority… but if he was honest, at least with himself, there were times he missed the boy he'd used to be.

"Did you sleep at all?" Sam's voice was a soft murmur in the dark.

"A coupla hours… maybe. I sleep better in the light." It was why Mike had wound up taking a job as a night guard. At least on those kind of patrols, he didn't have to worry about getting torn to pieces… about that part of him that thought he probably deserved to die more than any of the others, since if he'd never agreed to that stupid prank, Hannah wouldn't have run… Beth wouldn't have followed… and maybe the wendigo would have still targeted them, but if they'd stayed together, they might have stood a chance.

"Hey. Stop doing that."

Mike looked away, unable to keep eye contact with Sam. His eyes landed on his army jacket… not that it had started out as his, but he couldn't bring himself to throw it away. It was tattered and worn… stained with blood and God knew what else… but he'd felt braver wearing it; no matter that that bravery hadn't mattered in the end. Sam was the only one left… and she'd saved herself as much as he'd saved her.

"Hey." Sam's voice was sharper this time. "Feeling guilty isn't going to help them. It's not going to bring them back."

"What time is it?"

"Don't know. Three?" Sam sighed and rolled in closer to Mike's chest, as if seeking warmth. "Maybe we should leave town. Take a trailer… a tent… go backpacking across the world. We survived wendigos on a mountain in the middle of winter. I'm sure we can survive in the wilderness."

"Says the vegan."

"There are plenty of edible fruit and plants. You've just gotta know where to look."

Mike was quiet for a second or two. "Your parents still trying to talk you into seeing a counsellor?"

Sam snorted out something that would have been a laugh on anyone without their shared issues. "The only reason they're not having me outright committed is they can't prove I'm a danger to myself or others. Quote: 'I'm sorry, madam, but staying up all night isn't a good enough reason to consider mental instability.' Unquote." She lifted her head to make the air quotes with her fingers. "Are yours still pissed cause you refused to go into further education?"

"Have you _met_ my parents?"

"Once. Briefly. Long enough to decide I didn't want to repeat the experience." Sam nuzzled into his chest like a cat… or a wolf. "All the more reason to take off. I don't mean forever. Just, you know, long enough for everyone to stop worrying."

"They're worrying about the wrong thing."

"You know that. _I_ know that. We need to give the rest of the world some time to catch up." Sam yawned and closed her eyes. "At least the fire means they won't be rebuilding any time soon."

* * *

"Fuck!"

Mike's expletive shattered the silence and Sam whipped her head round so fast, she nearly gave herself whiplash. She still counted it a win. There'd been a time she would have hidden under the nearest object… or been halfway out of the window before her rational mind came back in control.

"Mike. What is it?" Sam stood from the couch and walked over to her flatmate.

Mike's eyes were dark… shadowed… hooded. He tossed a newspaper on the table. "We have to go back."

Sam's _why?_ died on her lips as she stared at the headline:

 _Billionaire Plans to Rebuild_.

The article went on to explain that an eccentric billionaire had entered negotiations to buy the Washington lodge, with the intention of rebuilding it and using it as a holiday home. After the loss of all three of their children, the Washingtons hadn't put up much of an argument.

Sam took it all in at a glance and then looked at Mike. "Maybe the danger's over?" she suggested, though there wasn't much hope in her voice. The man they'd met had indicated that fire didn't kill the wendigos themselves... only set the spirits loose to possess other people. "I don't know if I can go back there." Sam didn't really consider herself brave. She'd stepped up when it was necessary, but the thought of going back to that mountain... even if the terror was over...

Mike's face showed nothing but sympathy. "We've got to make sure no one else falls prey to the curse. If we could find some evidence... even if most people think it's a hoax... maybe _someone_ will listen."

"What do you want to do? Find a severed head? Some charred remains of a wendigo? Mike... I've seen these sequels. They never go well for the survivors."

Mike dropped his gaze to the newspaper. "I want to find my wolf."

"He's a wolf, Mike. He can take care of himself."

"No... not this one. He was tame. And the other wolf with him... one of the wendigos tore it apart. Sam, I left him alone on the mountain. I've gotta make sure he's okay." He paused and then continued, in a much quieter voice, "I don't expect you to come with me."

"Don't be silly," Sam retorted. "What's the alternative? See my own version of Doctor Hill? No thanks. Let's just make sure we've got plenty of supplies with us this time."

* * *

It was déjà vu.

Mike stood on the other side of the cable car station. The weather this time was sunny, negating the necessity for the headlamps they'd packed. Both he and Sam carried a backpack with the basic supplies both felt they needed.

"Brings back memories, doesn't it?" Sam murmured from somewhere to his right.

Mike tore his gaze from the bench... the memories of the snowball fight between him and Jess... and checked in his pocket for the keys to the cable car. "At least we're not going to be stranded this time."

Sam checked her phone. "We have just under twelve hours before it'll start getting dark. We should spend about half that searching. If we haven't found anything by then, we need to hole up somewhere... set up traps..."

"Sure you don't want me to carry your backpack along with mine?" Mike teased. He wondered what it said to his state of mind _now_ that he felt more comfortable... more like himself... here on the mountain. The bitter cold seeped into his body in a way that was scarily familiar.

"Don't push your luck."

The two began walking side by side. Mike's rifle and some extra clips of bullets were shoved into his belt, where he'd practised removing and reloading until he could perform both manoeuvres lightning quick.

It was a surreal feeling, to be walking the same path they'd followed months ago. Even in the daylight, he was expecting to see one of their friends. There was even a part of him that expected to see Hannah and Beth... despite knowing both of them were dead. He couldn't imagine how much Hannah had suffered... wounded and bleeding... eventually having to resort to cannibalism to survive. And how alone she must have felt...

"We should avoid the lodge and the sanatorium." Sam's voice cut into Mike's musings. "No matter how intelligent or tame your wolf is, he's still a wild animal. And we blew both buildings up, so he's not going to stick around there."

"So we need to head to the mines."

"Yeah. We'll just put our heads right in the den of the sleeping lions," Sam murmured.

Mike fell silent and just concentrated on walking as far as he could in a direction he only remembered in the dark. He suspected, no matter how strange it was, that he would have had an easier time finding his way at night.

It was Sam who broke the silence, after they'd been walking for close to half an hour. "Are you sure we're going the right way? I don't remember this area."

"I guess you didn't come this way. It's how me and Jess got to the second cabin. We fell into part of the mines along the way. I figure we can set up base there... from what I recall, it should be easily defensible."

"Look at you, Mr. Class President."

Mike glanced sideways at Sam, but he couldn't see even a hint of the smile he'd heard in her voice. The joke had fallen flat; the easy banter was too difficult to sustain. And even though the daylight hours were safe, Mike couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

Then again, his wolf wasn't the only one who had acted strangely.

In the daylight, it was easier to see the path Mike had taken with Jess... to find the entrance to the mines she'd stumbled down into. As he peered over the edge, he imagined he could see her... still waiting for him to jump down and join her.

Sam wasted no time shimmying down into the shaft, landing in a crouch. Mike waited until there was a clear space and then he dropped down behind her, landing with enough force to send jolts through his legs.

By the time Mike had stood and opened his backpack, Sam already had hers open and was taking her sleeping bag out, along with the baseball bat she'd packed. Within moments, she had her own space set up... and a couple of flamethrowers in hand. "Good job, Mike. If we need to stay overnight, we can sleep in shifts... and if we stay against the wall, we can see anything that might come at us."

"And set up traps above... just in case any of them get any ideas." Mike unpacked the bear traps as he spoke.

Sam eyed the traps. "I know we have to defend ourselves, Mike... but I don't like the idea of using traps like those. I've seen what they can do to an animal's leg and... well... remember what Chris said about them being human once? What if... there was a way they could come back?"

"You can't think like that, Sam." Mike set two of the traps a short distance in front of them, leaving enough room for them both to move. "It's them or us... and we both know they won't hesitate." He stood up and took a step back to admire his handiwork. "Besides, I'm not expecting to hurt them. Fire's the only thing that will penetrate their skin. But if we can just slow them down a little... enough to buy us some time..."

"Remind me again why I agreed to do this?"

"You can't keep doing this, Hannah. You're going to get yourself killed and then where will we be?"

Mike froze at the sound of the voice. A glance at Sam revealed she'd done the same. There were various legends about wendigos that claimed an ability to mimic human voices. Mike couldn't fathom why one was copying Josh... unless Hannah _had_ spared him, for whatever reason, and their insane friend had managed to survive this long without turning... but that wasn't possible. Wendigos didn't remember... they didn't _know_.

Did they?

Sam's gaze was focused on Mike and he could read the question in her eyes. Had he seen the wendigo... Hannah... kill Josh? He remembered hiding... being ashamed he'd hidden like a coward, despite knowing that trying to save the other would have only resulted in them both being killed. But he hadn't seen him die.

Holding eye contact with him, Sam moved very slowly and touched a finger lightly to one of her flamethrowers. If Mike hadn't been watching her so closely, he would have missed it. As it was, he gave a slight nod and then began stepping forward... rifle in hand without a single thought.

Sam stayed next to Mike as he moved with slow, sure steps in the direction the voice had come from. Her earlier words of putting their heads in the lion's den flittered through his mind and he considered turning back... but then again, if he'd wanted to be safe, he wouldn't have come back to the mountain at all.

The sound of voices... more than one and both human sounding... grew louder the further the two of them got into the mine. Mike frowned as he began considering several possibilities: that a wendigo (or more than one) was mimicking human speech to draw the two stupid humans who'd escaped once already into a trap; that Josh's mental problems had grown so much, he had an extra split personality; or... the least likely (considering they'd seen _everyone else_ die), there was another survivor. And for some reason, instead of leaving the mountain, they'd chosen to stay and...

Speculating wasn't going to help... and if Mike was thinking about that, he wasn't paying attention to what was going on around him.

Reaching a corner, Mike exchanged a glance with Sam and tightened his finger on the trigger of the rifle. He saw her tighten her own hold on the flamethrower and they exchanged a nod before he stepped round, preparing to fire.

There were two people on the other side. One was standing... and that was Josh. He was facing them... but his eyes were focused on the person crouched in front of him; a person who looked far too familiar, even seeing her back.

Sam pushed past Mike, dropping the flamethrower. " _Hannah_?!"

Mike quickly scooped up the flamethrower, holding it and the rifle trained on the siblings. Hannah had stood and turned round, making it clear who it was... but the sight was so impossible, he was wondering if he _and_ Sam were hallucinating.

"Hey, Mike..." Josh edged forward, stepping in front of Hannah and holding his hands up. "You're not gonna shoot us... are you?"

"What the _fuck_ is going on here?" Mike demanded.

"I don't know." Josh kept his hands raised defensively. "When I found her... I thought I was hallucinating. I figured at least I wasn't alone, though. But you can see her?" His gaze darted uncertainly between Mike and Sam. "You can _both_ see her?"

"I don't understand how." Sam edged closer, moving around Josh... who stepped to one side, but still kept himself in between Mike and his sister; as if he was expecting Mike to just randomly start shooting. As if Mike couldn't see for himself that Hannah wasn't one of the wendigos... even though he didn't know how that was even possible.

For her part, Sam had crouched down with one hand held out... as if Hannah was a wild or frightened animal. Mike watched as Hannah slanted towards the other woman... and as if that was a signal, Sam wrapped her arms around her and hugged on tight.

"How are you both alive? And not turned?" Mike asked suspiciously.

It was Sam who spoke. "That old guy said fire sets free their spirits, right? Maybe, if the wendigo let go of Hannah... she was able to come back." She looked down at the woman in her arms. "Do you remember anything?"

"And how do we know you aren't possessed?" Mike asked suspiciously.

Josh shrugged. "I don't know what the criteria for getting possessed is... but there is wildlife on this mountain. And our third member has been useful in keeping us fed..."

"Third member?" Mike asked.

A familiar grey, shaggy head pushed its way past Josh's legs. Mike didn't know where the wolf had come from, but he quickly shoved both rifle and flamethrower into his belt and crouched down to reach his hand out to his furry friend... who stepped forward and pressed his head into Mike's chest.

Mike didn't even care that he could smell rotting meat on the wolf's breath... though he did wrinkle up his nose. "Hey, buddy. You managed to get away from the fire?" He ruffled the shaggy fur and then stood up, taking in the cuts and bruises that covered Josh and Hannah. "Why didn't you leave?"

"Where would we go?" Josh asked.

"I became a monster..." Hannah whispered. She leaned into Sam and closed her eyes as a couple of tears tracked their way down her cheeks. "I don't think I can even go home... I deserve to die..."

"No, you don't," Sam replied, her voice more serious than Mike had ever heard it before. "I don't want to hear that from you... from _any_ of you," she added, looking at all of them. "I've seen too much death. I don't want to see any more."

"Then why did you come here?" Josh asked.

"Your parents are selling the mountain," Mike said. "And I wanted to come back for Wolfie..."

"They can't do that!" Hannah protested.

"Hey, you wanna come back with us and tell the world we're telling the truth... be my guest," Mike said. "But they already think _we're_ insane... and they can't explain away the disappearances of everyone. It's not like they could even find the bodies."

"Are you just... living off the land, then?" Sam asked.

"We've been trying to trap the wendigos," Josh said. "After I found Hannah? Well, it was obvious fire only destroys the host... at least in most cases. But Hannah was possessed by a different kind of wendigo, which is why she escaped unharmed. At least physically," he muttered.

"But how are you trapping them?" Mike asked. "Where are you holding them? _How_ are you holding them?"

"I still have... I don't know what it is," Hannah said. "I can run faster. And we can use me as bait. I guess... maybe they still see me as a threat."

"Is that what we heard, Josh?" Sam asked, straightening up and looking at him. She looked back at Hannah. "Did you get yourself hurt by using yourself as bait?"

"It was just a scratch..."

"I know _I'm_ insane, but I don't think your behaviour is very indicative of good mental health... or something," Josh mumbled.

"How safe is this place?" Sam asked, standing up and linking her hand with Hannah's.

Josh shrugged. "It's clear up until the next area. Unless someone else has turned, but we haven't seen anyone else up here. Of course, with four of us... plus the wolf... who knows what could happen?"

"That's all I need to know." Sam pulled Hannah to her feet and headed back the way they'd come.

Josh glanced after his sister and her best friend. As they moved past Mike, Hannah flinched visibly and ducked her head... but didn't say anything. Mike could see a long, deep scratch on her arm as she disappeared from view with Sam, though.

"I'm sorry."

Mike turned back to Josh. "I blamed you for what happened to Jess... I guess... I mean... you wouldn't have hurt her, right? _Any_ of them? I know it wasn't you..." He shook his head. "Man... I don't even know what I'm really doing back here. But I know we can leave. The five of us."

Josh shook his head. "Can't do that, man. They'll lock me up for sure. And Hannah? They'll run tests on her... I've gotta protect her, Mike. I didn't think she was real... now I _know_ that she is and I couldn't protect her before?" He shook his head. "I can't take her back into the world. What if it doesn't stick or something?"

Mike wanted to tell Josh he was being stupid... but was it _really_ that stupid? He'd seen for himself how everything was so different here. The animals were different... and who could say what would happen to the wendigo curse once they got off the mountain? Hell, Hannah could die, for all he knew. Even so... "Aren't you supposed to be taking meds or something?"

"It hasn't been as bad now... or maybe me and Hannah are just... insane together. Who can tell?"

"I think we both got a little crazy when we got back," Mike said quietly. "I don't know about Sam, but I feel more at home here now."

"And I thought _I_ was the crazy one."

Mike glanced back over his shoulder, wondering what Sam was doing with Hannah, and then looked back at Josh. "I'm not sure you're as crazy as you think you are."

"Crazy enough to put all my friends in danger. If I hadn't insisted we all come out to the lodge... if I hadn't planned everything I did... you all only came because I asked you to."

"I don't think _any_ of us would have agreed to come here if we'd known what was waiting," Mike said. "I'm just sorry your sisters had to go through what they did."

"There's nothing to stop you and Sam from leaving," Josh said. "You shouldn't be forced to stick around here. Even if someone _does_ buy out the mountain… there are plenty of places me and Hannah can hide. And I'm sure we can start rumours that this place is haunted. Maybe, with a few videos out there, word will get out this is a dangerous place."

"You've given this a lot of thought." Mike sat down against the wall, propping the rifle next to him, and smiled when the wolf flopped down, head on his leg. "I'm glad you're safe," he addressed his four-legged friend… then spoke to his two-legged one. "Same with you. I'm glad to see you're alive."

"You shouldn't be. I'm a monster. Worse than the wendigos here," Josh said, his voice filled with self-loathing. "They can't help their nature. I... could have helped everything."

Mike didn't know what to say to help Josh feel better. He didn't even know if he _should_ say anything. It was probable none of the others would have died if Josh hadn't invited them all to the lodge... but it was always easy to look at the past and think of what-ifs. It was called hindsight for a reason. "I don't think anyone would have steered clear of this place for long," he said out loud. "It was going to come out sooner or later." He strained his ears, glancing back in the direction Sam had taken Hannah. "Are you sure your sister's safe?"

"I'm not sure of _anything_ anymore, Mike." Josh sat down next to him. "But I think I know what Sam's doing." He swallowed. "If... there wasn't anything wrong with me, I'd have done what Sam's doing?"

"What does that mean?" Mike quickly stood, the wolf lifting his head to free his leg, grabbing his rifle, as he heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh. It was very faint, but the sound was unmistakeable.

"Sit down, Mike." Josh looked around and then lowered his voice, as if worried they might be overheard. "Sam's spanking Hannah."

* * *

Hannah's hand was soft and warm in Sam's as she led her from the boys. As she walked with her friend, Sam thought about what she was planning to do; about whether she _should_ be taking on this responsibility, even though it was clear Josh was unable to be responsible for another person right now.

As they reached the packs, Hannah spoke. "How long have you known?"

"Do you remember that time Jess and Emily dared you to shoplift?" Sam asked.

"I remember you stayed with me until Josh came to pick me up." Hannah paused and then added, "I thought it might get Mike to notice me. If I was... more adventurous. More like..."

Sam turned to face her best friend. "Jess and Em weren't nice people, Hannah. They didn't deserve what happened to them... _no one_ deserves that... Oh, shit." She sighed as Hannah's face crumpled. " _You_ didn't deserve it either."

"I think I deserve to die." Hannah's voice was a low, tortured moan; barely able to be described as human at all.

Sam thought about shaking Hannah. She thought about it... but she didn't do it. Her time here had affected her enough that she could no longer consider herself a pacifist; at least when it came to defending herself and those she cared about. But fighting for Hannah wasn't about picking up a baseball bat... or about hitting a switch... or even shooting a gun.

Avoiding the traps Mike had set out, Sam sat down on her sleeping bag, pulling Hannah down to sit next to her... and then she paused, a bit lost. While she knew what Josh (and Beth, she suspected) had done in the past to respond when Hannah had done something she shouldn't, Sam had never had to physically punish someone before. And Hannah looked so dejected, Sam wanted to tell her it was all right; that she didn't have to be punished.

But then Sam remembered Josh implying his sister acting dangerously by using herself as bait. She remembered Hannah running off into the snow without even a coat, all because of a prank. And while the prank _had_ been cruel, Hannah shouldn't have reacted like she did.

Sam thought about that and she found the decision to punish her friend an easy one to make. She decided not to worry about how Josh and Beth had handled it.

Sam took hold of Hannah's hand, squeezing it gently, before she gave a tug, drawing her friend across her lap. Well... in actual fact, she was _encouraging_ Hannah to lay across her knee; she wasn't strong enough to pull her friend if she wasn't willing to go.

It was a strange feeling, to have a warm, solid weight across her lap. Sam noticed how Hannah's hands gripped tight on the sleeping bag, but she didn't know where to put _her_ hand. In the end, she settled it uncertainly on Hannah's waist, drawing her friend closer against her stomach.

Sam slid her other hand under Hannah's stomach, undoing the button and zipper on her jeans. Within moments, she had Hannah's backside bare across her knees... and she felt her friend shift uncomfortably.

Raising her hand, Sam brought it down in a swat that was loud rather than hard. She knew nothing would be served by going about this half-assed... and Sam didn't want to risk Hannah repeating her behaviour because the consequences weren't severe enough. With that in mind, the second swat was much harder.

Hannah must have felt the difference, because she jerked forward and let out a tiny whimper. "Ow."

Sam paused, but when Hannah didn't move again, she resumed swatting her friend's backside hard. Each swat echoed with a crisp sound that was unmistakeable. Sam didn't pause or falter... but she cringed at how loud the spanking was.

By the time Sam had completed one full circuit of swats, including Hannah's sit spots and thighs, her hand was beginning to sting. Wincing, she forced away the discomfort and made herself continue swatting hard, starting a second circuit and ignoring the tiny whimpers and groans that escaped as Hannah wriggled and writhed across her lap.

As Sam began a third circuit, she let her hand fall a fraction harder... though she kept them at the same speed. Halfway through the third circuit, she began to speak... using the swats more as an emphasis to what she was saying. "I don't care how guilty you feel, Hannah. What happened to you was awful. I found your diary," she admitted. "It took a month before your will broke. I don't think I could have held out that long." She paused to deliver a few sharper swats to Hannah's thighs and felt her friend jerk. "It's understandable that you feel guilty about what you became, but if you kill yourself trying to set things right, all that's gonna do is let them win."

"I'm a monster..." Hannah's tears made it nearly impossible to decipher what she'd sobbed out... but Sam was fairly certain that was what she'd said.

"You are _not_ a monster," Sam stated. "And killing yourself isn't going to bring anyone back. I don't want you to die," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I lost so many friends already... I can't lose my best friend again..."

Hannah had already been crying, but Sam felt her stiffen and then slump forward as she began to sob... the sound heartbroken and painful to listen to. Sam didn't know if it was the right point to stop or not... but she couldn't force herself to carry on. She quickly tugged Hannah's clothing back into place and then rested her hand on her friend's back. "I'm not going to let you get yourself killed. I'm not going to abandon you." She'd lost too much already. She was going to hold on tight to what she _did_ have with both hands.

Slowly, Hannah began to lever herself up off Sam's lap. Sam let her and then looked uncertainly at her friend's tear-stained face. She only relaxed when Hannah wrapped her arms around Sam and hugged on tight, pressing in close with a sniffle.

Sam let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding and touched Hannah's head, stroking her hair. "It's all right..." she whispered. "We'll deal with this. You and Josh aren't alone anymore. I promise."

* * *

Mike couldn't relax, even when the sounds of the spanking faded and all he could make out was the quiet murmur of voices. His wolf whined and pressed against Mike's leg, forcing a halt in his pacing.

"You're making the wolf nervous," Josh observed.

"This whole place is making me nervous," Mike muttered. " _You_ saw that thing's lair, Josh. I mean... I know it was Hannah, but... Fuck..." He ran a hand through his hair wearily. "I had to set the damn sanatorium on fire to stop them, but according to that old guy, all fire does is release those spirits. Does that mean we're possessed now? Are we gonna reach the point those miners did?"

"We've got something they didn't have, though," Josh said. "We know what's coming. Forewarned is the same as forearmed and all that." He stared blankly at the wall and spoke in a much quieter voice. "I don't know what's real or not."

"Yeah, well, _I'm_ real. You can count on that."

"If you were real, you would be punching me out right about now."

"I'm not following your logic. I was ready to hurt you because I thought you killed Jess. Now?" Mike shook his head. "I'm pissed about what you did, but more because we didn't need _that_ and the wendigos. But I seriously think you need help, man. You're not well."

"I can't leave Hannah."

"I'm not saying we leave anyone behind. We head to the cable car. _All_ of us, Wolfie included. If Hannah shows any signs of turning... anything like that... we come straight back here and figure out our next move. But we've gotta try. The three of you survived here... I don't think five of us will have the same kind of luck."

"I... where would we even go?"

"Well, Sam was saying something about taking a backpacking trip into nature. If we can survive wendigos, I figure we can survive camping. Or pool our money together and get a caravan."

"You should go," Josh said. "I'm not... I won't be of any use to you."

"Didn't you hear what I said? We're not leaving anyone behind."

Josh got a stubborn look on his face that was rarely seen on the man who used to be so easygoing. "You take Hannah. She doesn't need to stick here with me."

Mike ground his teeth. Before he'd had to take on the mantle of a warrior, he would never have dreamed of getting into a brawl. He would have never considered hitting a friend... even a friend who had done as much as Josh had done. But he was scared, even though he tried to hide it. He was relieved that Josh and Hannah were both alive, because at least that meant there was some good that came out of this whole horrible situation.

And now Josh was going to stay behind and force them to leave without him? No. That wasn't going to happen.

"Okay, Josh." Mike's voice came out calmer than he was expecting. "Here's what we're going to do. You're going to lean against the wall and I'm going to take off my belt and use it until we're satisfied you've paid for whatever you think you need to."

Josh stared at Mike and then barked out a laugh. "You're not serious."

In answer, Mike unbuckled the belt at his waist and pulled it free.

"Fuck." For one moment, Josh looked wild enough to flee in the opposite direction. But then, shoulders slumping, he turned and rested his hands flat against the wall.

Mike held back a sigh as he moved to Josh's side. Doubling the belt over in his hand, he landed it hard across the seat of Josh's pants.

Josh jerked in response and Mike placed his free hand on the other man's back to hold him still as he brought the belt down a second and third time, hearing the noise the belt made as it whistled through the air... as it dully slapped against Josh's bottom.

Mike continued bringing the belt down until he reached Josh's thighs... and then he started over from the top. "I'm sorry about everything that happened, but giving the wendigos another victim isn't going to change anything. I'm not going to lie and say everything's perfect, but the four of us can stay together and none of us have to do anything we don't want to..."

"You don't want me with you...!" Josh burst out.

"Yeah. I do. We made a mistake... you made a mistake... everything went wrong and so badly. Me and Sam? We've been pretty much disowned by our families. All we've got is each other." Mike brought down the belt on each word to emphasise it. "And now we found you both... you don't think we're gonna make sure we can stay together? Unless I'm mistaken, I think that's what's Sam's doing with Hannah."

"I don't understand..."

Mike could hear the tears in Josh's voice and he dropped the belt, placing his hand on the other man's shoulder and squeezing gently. "We're still friends, Josh. Let's go and join the girls... I think they'll agree with needing to leave." He gave a smile he hoped was reassuring.

Josh sniffled, wiping his dirty sleeve across his face, and nodded. "Okay."

Mike picked up his belt and replaced it, then turned to the wolf, who'd hung back during the relatively short thrashing. "Come here, boy." He motioned with his head, pleased when the wolf padded to his side.

Josh wiped once more at his eyes and gave Mike a trembling nod, before joining him to find Sam and Hannah.

 **The End**


	5. Folly (Original Star Trek)

**Folly**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from the Star Trek franchise and I'm not making any money from this fic

 **Summary:** Tag to Star Trek V. Spock betrayed Kirk. Now they're dealing with it

 **Warning(s):** Spanking; spoilers for the Star Trek movies and series up until and including Star Trek V; some mentions of violence

 **Author's Note:** Fifth in the Twenty Fics series

* * *

It was hard to put his finger on exactly what it was.

They'd returned to shore leave; which was just as well since, as far as Kirk was concerned, his crew had more than earned it.

The problem was Spock.

Kirk had assumed him, Spock and Bones would return to their vacation. For all Spock had assumed he _didn't_ know what he was doing with the rock climbing, Kirk had been having fun with the two people he considered his closest friends. But it was different now.

It probably wouldn't be obvious to anyone other than Kirk. He didn't think it was with false modesty he thought he was probably the closest to the Vulcan. And up until now, he'd thought Spock felt the same about him.

But right now, Kirk was sitting alone, staring into the remnants of the fire he, Bones and Spock had sat round... before they'd been called away on a mission; before Kirk had discovered Spock had a brother... only for his friend to lose his brother just a short time after finding him.

"You look like someone's died. _Again_."

Kirk looked up as Bones sat next to him. "I'm surprised to see you here. I thought for sure you'd stay on the other side of the planet... just in case we're conscripted back into service again."

Bones snorted softly. "I'm tired of seeing you and Spock moping around like this."

Kirk raised his eyebrows. "Moping around?"

"The Vulcan equivalent, at least. Damnit, Jim. The two of you are tearing yourselves apart like this... and if you don't deal with it before shore leave's over, all of the crew are going to be affected."

"It's not my fault!" Kirk couldn't stop the defensive note that crept into his voice. " _Spock's_ the one who's avoiding _me_!"

"And why do you think that is?" Bones' tone suggested he thought Kirk was fully aware of the reason why.

Kirk looked away, unable to hold eye contact with his friend. "How am I supposed to know what goes through a Vulcan's mind?"

"Jim." Bones waited for Kirk to look at him. "I'm going to tell you to do what you already know. _Talk to him_."

Bones was right. Kirk _knew_ that. He didn't know what to say to Spock, though. He'd accused the Vulcan of betraying the ship... of betraying _him_. He knew why Spock hadn't been able to bring himself to kill Sybok. Spock was his brother in every way that mattered... and faced with a similar situation (faced with the _death_ of his brother once already), Kirk knew he would never have taken that step.

Maybe the biggest problem was with _him_ , because he _didn't_ know what to say to Spock. In a normal situation, he'd never had a problem talking to his friend, but the whole situation with Sybok had been all kinds of wrong. And Kirk knew that if _he_ was feeling torn up about it, Spock had to be feeling so much worse.

"I'm going to talk to him," Kirk muttered, standing up.

"You do that. I'll stay here... guard this place."

"Yes. I'm sure that's _exactly_ what you're going to do." Kirk smiled and then walked away from the clearing. He didn't need to ask Bones where Spock was. If he couldn't find his Vulcan friend without help, he had more problems than the obvious.

It didn't take long for Kirk to reach the mountain he'd been climbing earlier. He reached the foot of it in time to see Spock climbing down, looking none the worse for wear... though he was still wearing his hover shoes.

"What are you doing, Spock?"

"I was trying to see what you find so fascinating about this activity."

Kirk nodded, glancing at the mountain. "Did you learn anything?"

"I am not sure I will understand why you enjoy it so much."

"How are you feeling, Spock?"

"Do you mean right now?"

"I know Vulcans don't show their emotions," Kirk said. "But I _also_ know you do feel them. And you lost your brother. I know I wasn't exactly sympathetic about it at the time, but... if you need to talk about it. I'm here for you. I hope you know that."

"I appreciate that, Jim." Spock paused, as if he wasn't sure whether to continue or not, but then carried on. "Sybok is not what concerns me. I have been through death and I know it is nothing to fear. His loss saddens me, that is true. But not as much as the thought I might have lost your friendship."

Kirk blinked, first feeling taken aback... and then feeling guilty. "You haven't lost my friendship, Spock."

"I acted against the best interests of the Enterprise and her Captain," Spock said. "I did not have to shoot my brother. I could have incapacitated him some other way. You were right when you accused me of betraying you."

"No, Spock. I was unfair to you. Of course you couldn't kill him. I'm sorry I even asked you to."

"Thank you for your apology, but it changes nothing of how I feel."

"Well..." Kirk glanced around, though the only person who might be close enough to hear anything was Bones; and he wasn't likely to disturb them unless he thought either of them were in danger. "I don't blame you, Spock. But I don't like that this has caused a rift between us."

"And what do you suggest we do about it?"

Kirk shrugged. "I remember a few times at the academy when the instructors used corporal punishment. I'm guessing you never experienced it yourself..."

"I am not perfect... but I confess I have not suffered such a punishment, although I am aware of its existence," Spock said. "You believe this will help?"

"Could it hurt?"

"No. I suspect it would not be worse than how I feel now, despite the odd phrasing of your question." Spock paused and then asked, "In what position would you prefer me to be in?"

Kirk considered it, but Spock was his friend. His second-in-command, sure, but still his friend. And he couldn't consider anything but the most intimate position, because that was what he thought Spock would respond the best to. "I'm going to take you over my knee, Spock. Because you're my friend. And I shouldn't have given you cause to doubt that, so I apologise for that..." His voice trailed off.

"There are not many comfortable places to sit," Spock observed.

"Yeah... but we're in a forest. Should be a fallen tree log or a stump or something..." Kirk began stepping away, catching sight of Spock following from the corner of his eye. "I probably passed several I won't be able to find now," he muttered.

"It never ceases to amaze me how different you are while off the Enterprise, Jim."

"Different, huh?"

"You could say that."

Kirk didn't retrace his steps, instead heading in the opposite direction... away from where he'd left Bones. Even if his friend would likely understand, he wasn't sure he wanted to broadcast exactly what they were doing.

As it was, it didn't take long to come across a fallen tree log. Kirk sat down and then turned to Spock, glancing at his friend's slightly more casual clothing. "Do you want to take your pants down and come here?"

"I assume that was a rhetorical question." Spock moved to Kirk's side and pushed his pants down, along with his underwear. Without a word needed, he bent forward over Kirk's lap, letting his hands rest on the log's surface. "I apologise for this being necessary, Jim."

"No apology necessary, Spock." His Vulcan friend would be the only one Jim could imagine who would apologise for making it necessary for him to get his butt beaten. Knowing how difficult the physical contact was for his friend, he placed his hand on Spock's lower back... because he guessed forcing the personal space issue would have just as much an effect... pushing his shirt up out of the way to do so. He lifted his hand and brought it down in a firm swat on Spock's right cheek, before repeating it on his left.

Spock didn't react, so Kirk landed the next two swats harder. He continued down to the Vulcan's thighs and then started over from the top... which was when he began speaking. "I know you suppress your emotions, Spock. But sometimes it's okay to let them out. Like when you're with your friend. He was your brother. You're allowed to grieve for him."

"I put his safety over yours." The only evidence of the spanking so far was a slight hitch in Spock's breathing as he spoke. And it wasn't clear if the hitch was to do with his next words or to do with the swats. "My loyalty is supposed to lie with you and the Enterprise. That is logical."

"Feelings aren't logical, Spock. I shouldn't have to explain that to you after how long you've known me for." Kirk started a second circuit of swats, watching as Spock's backside began to change to a green hue under his hand. He wasn't really taken aback... but he hadn't thought about the different colour in blood when he'd suggested spanking.

"I hardly think you are the finest example of an emotional human, Jim." Spock's voice was becoming a little bit ragged.

Encouraged by his friend's response, the second circuit was delivered harder, to the point Kirk could begin making out his individual handprints in prominent green. He delivered a few harder swats to Spock's thighs and felt the tensing in his friend's body. "We aren't talking about me."

"I understand what I did wrong."

"You didn't do _anything_ wrong, Spock. You wanted to save your brother. I was angry because I didn't understand. Not at first," Kirk admitted. "Or maybe it would be more accurate to say I didn't _want_ to understand. I mean, I didn't grow up with any siblings. You and Bones... you're my family. I guess maybe... if you already _had_ a brother... I thought you wouldn't need me."

"I am sorry I made you feel that way, Jim." Spock's voice was beginning to sound strained.

"You didn't give me any reason to." Kirk took a deep breath, wondering if he was going to be able to force himself to continue with this... especially when he thought maybe it should be the other way round.

"That is not accurate, Jim. Despite your understanding, I _did_ put my estranged brother ahead of you... my friend and brother in every way that is important."

This time, Kirk was fairly certain the hitching in Spock's voice came from the emotions he was battling to suppress. And he was just as certain his friend needed to break down... no matter how uncomfortable he found it.

Kirk briefly considered removing his belt... but his hand was more personal and he thought that was what Spock needed. He lifted his hand to begin another circuit of swats, snapping his wrist to make the smacks seem harder. This time, when he stopped, he rested his stinging hand on Spock's backside. "You know what, Spock? It did hurt me. Because it felt like you were choosing sides. You were choosing to be loyal to your brother, who'd taken an entire planet hostage. And when you had the chance to stop him, you didn't take it." He'd been rubbing Spock's bottom while he talked, feeling how hot it radiated against his palm.

"Jim... I am sorry." There were definite tears in Spock's voice. "I did not mean to hurt you... I will not betray you again. I give you my word."

"I believe you, Spock." Kirk took a deep breath, deciding his friend... his _brother_... had reached the point he needed to. "Ten more and it'll be over. I'll forgive you and we won't need to talk about it any longer."

"I understand..."

It was hard, hearing Spock's voice break. And Kirk didn't want to finish it... but he knew he had to, for his friend's sake. He shifted Spock forward, exposing his sit spots, and swatted the promised ten times, going left to right, before he stopped and rubbed Spock's back gently, then tugged his clothing back into place.

Spock carefully pushed up from Kirk's lap and wiped at his eyes. "Thank you, my friend," he said, his voice quiet but sincere.

Kirk nodded. "You're welcome... brother."

 **The End**


	6. Feeling Is Believing (Now You See Me)

**Feeling is Believing**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from the Now You See Me franchise and I'm not making any money from this fic

 **Summary:** Tag to the second movie. Dylan and Atlas have a 'conversation'. After Thaddeus and Dylan have one

 **Warning(s):** Spanking; major spoilers for Now You See Me 2; minor spoilers for Now You See Me; AU

 **Author's Note:** The second half of this was in my head from watching the second movie, but I couldn't write the second half without the first. Don't read this if you don't want to be spoiled for Now You See Me 2.

So far so good with the different fandoms... I have a few more ideas in mind, but don't forget to request if there's anything you'd like to see. You never know what I might be inspired by!

* * *

Dylan was sure it wasn't just him who had the problem. Despite Thaddeus' suggestion (and no matter how it was phrased, he knew it was really an order), he'd had yet to officially start training Atlas.

This wasn't because of any reluctance on Dylan's part; far from it. Although he knew he still had a good many years left in him, Thaddeus was right that he had to look to the future... and even though it made him ashamed to think of how much time he'd wasted with the older man, now that he knew the truth, he was determined not to let anymore of that time go to waste. Which was why he'd talked he man into staying at the Eye with him and the four horsemen... or perhaps three, if Atlas' avoidance of him turned into the younger man choosing to leave. But Dylan didn't think it had reached that point. Not yet.

"You seem to be deep in thought."

Startled, Dylan raised his head from his deck of cards as Thaddeus sat on the chair opposite. "I didn't hear you." That troubled him. If he was starting to lose his abilities...

"I'm not surprised. Your thoughts are so loud, I suspect they're drowning out the sounds you would usually be so attuned to." Thaddeus watched him closely. "Your young friend... he's like you in so many ways.

"That might be the problem. It's probably why we've butted heads so much. And don't even get me started on keeping people at arm's length..."

"He's avoiding you."

Up until then, Dylan had partway convinced himself Atlas' distance was all in his mind. They'd finally been allowed to learn the secrets of the Eye, so of course Atlas and the others were going to be busy and distracted. "So it's not in my head."

"I suspect there are many things in your head, Dylan. But that is not one of them." Thaddeus seemed to choose his next words carefully. "I can see that... and the frustration it's causing you... because I have been experiencing the same."

Dylan didn't need to ask who Thaddeus was referring to. Apart from their conversation when he'd requested the other man stay at the Eye, they hadn't really spoken... and Dylan knew it was because he'd been avoiding him. "I haven't _meant_ to avoid you..."

"You can lie to me all you want, son. But you can't lie to yourself."

The word hit hard and Dylan couldn't hide his wince. Was it just a sign of affection, or an offer to be a father figure to him? He hated this feeling of constant second-guessing himself. He was always more confident than this. "I'm not..." His voice trailed off and he stopped. Took a breath. "I'm a part of _this_ , but it's always been about getting justice. Making sure the guilty people were punished. Or those who I _thought_ were guilty."

"And you believe sending me to prison was wrong." Thaddeus eyed him calmly. "You spent your life believing a lie your father and I perpetuated. I can't blame you for that."

"I put an innocent man in jail." Dylan looked at the deck of cards, a bitter taste in his mouth.

"And the guilt is tearing you up inside. Look at me, son."

Unwillingly, Dylan raised his eyes to Thaddeus' face.

"You and Atlas are more alike than I suspect even you are aware of. And this guilt you feel is a mirror to his."

"He thought he was doing the right thing."

"Exactly the same as you."

The words hung in the air between them, as Dylan tried to read between the lines. And tried to imagine Atlas feeling so guilty, the younger man was trying to avoid having to face the person he felt he'd wronged.

Oh. Maybe Dylan _could_ relate.

Thaddeus seemed to know the moment that realisation hit, as he nodded, a serious look crossing his face. "It's easy to put a drop of ink in milk. So much more difficult to separate it out again."

 _So much more difficult to heal a broken relationship._ Dylan nodded, understanding what Thaddeus was saying to him. "I assume you have some idea of how to do that."

"Your guilt stems from the belief you haven't paid for the way you've wronged someone. It's the same place Atlas' guilt comes from," Thaddeus said. "I can't help Atlas with his, as what he did didn't involve me."

"But you can help me."

"I can. But only if you trust me."

Trust. There was a loaded word. Outside of the horsemen and now the Eye, Dylan couldn't have said he trusted anyone. And he certainly hadn't trusted Thaddeus when he'd broken the older man out of prison.

Now? If Thaddeus could help with the guilt stabbing at him, he'd accept almost anything that was done.

Thaddeus didn't seem to need an answer; at least not a verbal one. He nodded and then stood. "We should continue this discussion in my apartment."

"Yes." Dylan cut himself off before he added sir. He picked up his deck of cards, placing it in his pocket, and followed Thaddeus from the room.

Both men were silent as they walked up the stairs towards the apartments. Dylan had no idea what Thaddeus was planning, but his emotions had been churning so much, it was a relief to know something was finally going to be done.

It didn't seem that long before they were stood outside Thaddeus' apartment and the older man was unlocking the door. Dylan followed him inside and glanced round as the door swung closed behind him.

They were standing in the doorway, clear of clutter and with a couple of framed articles on the wall. Dylan's guilt stabbed him harder as he realised the articles detailed cases he'd solved while working with the FBI.

"This way, son." Thaddeus walked through the first door.

Dylan followed Thaddeus into the living room, pausing as the older man took a seat on the couch. He had a sneaking suspicion he knew what was about to occur... a suspicion only confirmed by Thaddeus' next words. "Undo your trousers and bend over my lap."

Dylan faltered, wondering if he was serious. " _This_ is your idea? A spanking is hardly... I'm not a child!"

"Do you think a criminal is allowed to choose his punishment?" Thaddeus returned. "If you really want to be free of your guilt, you will do as I say."

Dylan wondered if it would have been easier if Thaddeus had shouted at him; had scolded him and belittled him with insults. The gentleness of his words and tone were somehow much harder to take. And it was the tone that had Dylan unfastening his trousers and moving to Thaddeus' side in the same movement.

It was awkward, but Dylan forced himself to bend at the waist, placing himself over Thaddeus' knees. He felt his cheeks grow hot as he shifted slightly, trying to find a position that, while no less embarrassing, might at least be more comfortable.

Thaddeus' hand on his back stilled Dylan's movement. He felt himself blush even more as the older man tugged down his pants and underwear in one swift movement. He might have protested being bared, but he _wanted_ things to be right between them.

"We wasted a lot of time we could have spent helping each other get over our grief." Thaddeus spoke as he rested his hand on Dylan's backside. "I accept it was as much my fault as yours. I should have reached out to you much sooner. But after this spanking is over, we can move past this. We won't bring it up again... and we can move forward. Do you want that?"

Dylan shivered, but despite the fact his backside was exposed, he wasn't cold. Nor was he scared... not even dreading what was about to happen. No. The biggest emotion he was experiencing right now was shame; that he'd forced Thaddeus into doing this. Belatedly realising the older man had asked him a question and he still hadn't responded, he rushed to answer so Thaddeus didn't think he was being disrespectful. "Yes, sir. I do want that."

Thaddeus didn't make a verbal response, but Dylan winced when he felt the first hard smack land at the crest of his buttocks. He was barely given a chance to catch his breath before the second and third fell, almost on top of each other.

The smacks landed at a steady pace, down to Dylan's thighs. Although he didn't think Thaddeus was using any more force there, his hand felt more painful and Dylan couldn't help the whimper that escaped.

It was worse when Thaddeus started over, swatting skin that had already received attention. Dylan couldn't keep himself from squirming in response, trying to force away the tears that threatened to fall. He was a grown man. He shouldn't be crying over a child's punishment, even if it _was_ painful.

Dylan thought he might be able to halt his reactions; that he would be strong enough to withstand the punishment without breaking down. But as Thaddeus started a third circuit, he began to smack that bit harder and faster. Dylan's butt was sore already... he couldn't stop his gasps and whimpers.

No matter how painful the spanking was, it couldn't touch on the emotions that battered at Dylan when Thaddeus began speaking again: "I don't blame you for what happened, son. You were only focused on revenge for a long time and I thought letting you continue to believe I was guilty would bring both of us some measure of peace."

Dylan's breath hitched in a sob. Thaddeus' voice was soft, but he could still hear the note of anguish in it. That, coupled with the heat building in his bottom, was what began to break down his barriers. "I'm sorry..." He didn't know how much more he could take. Thaddeus was forcing him back into the mindset of a child... and he wasn't sure he could cope with that. He wasn't even sure if he was apologising for framing Thaddeus; for acting like a child; for...

Another round of swats dissolved his thoughts. And with them, Dylans' resistance crumbled. He slumped over Thaddeus' knee, no longer resisting the punishment even by squirming. The tears ran down his cheeks and he cried; quietly, but freely.

After several moments had passed, Dylan became aware of Thaddeus rubbing his back. The older man was murmuring soft words he couldn't decipher, but were comforting anyway. He whimpered softly as Thaddeus tugged his clothing back into place, but pushed himself off the older man's lap and carefully sat next to him on the couch.

Thaddeus wrapped his arm around Dylan's shoulders, drawing him in close. "When you're ready, there's a young man who needs your guidance. But until then... sit with me and we'll talk. I'd like to catch up on everything I've missed with you."

* * *

Enough was enough.

Dylan wasn't sure if it was the spanking or his tentative relationship with Thaddeus, but things seemed so much clearer now. And it was obvious to him that he couldn't just let this situation pass with Atlas. Of course, making that decision and following _through_ with that decision were two very different things... and it took a full twenty-four hours before Dylan managed to corner the younger man; and he had the feeling certain other residents of the Eye had had a hand in him finding Atlas alone.

"Are you planning to contact someone?" Dylan stepped over to the younger man as he noticed Atlas had his phone out, where he was sitting at the table.

Atlas flinched and pulled the phone away, out of Dylan's sight. "What are you doing here?" There was a wary note in his voice.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" Dylan sat opposite him. "We need to talk."

"Okay." Atlas took a deep breath. "I apologised to the others... I know I owe you an apology, too. I should have trusted you knew what you were doing... I trusted the wrong people and it could have all gone _horribly_ wrong."

"It didn't."

"Yeah, well, no thanks to me."

"None of it would be possible without you." Dylan glanced around the small room, that looked like it should be a break room in his workplace... minus the television, but with two couches facing opposite each other and a selection of armchairs scattered around. Bookcases lined the walls... and Dylan didn't think he needed to check to know they were probably very rare books, stolen by members or perhaps allies of the Eye.

"That's nice of you to say, but I almost ruined everything," Atlas stated. "And I let you take the fall for me."

"You also saved me."

"I think you saved yourself. I just pulled you out, but you did all the work."

Dylan leaned back, studying his face. "Just because you made a mistake it doesn't mean I don't want to train you as my successor."

"Really?" A hopeful look came over Atlas' face.

"Yeah. But to do that, you're gonna need to trust me. And we can't achieve that trust with this between us. If you think you can get past this, then we can start from now." Dylan paused, holding eye contact with him.

"I feel like there's a but in there somewhere."

" _Can_ you get past this?"

Atlas was quiet and still for several long moments... and then he slowly shook his head.

Dylan wasn't surprised. He stood and walked towards the door, pushing it closed before he turned to face Atlas. "If you can't let go of the guilt alone, then you need help." He sat down next to the younger man. "I'm going to spank you. And then it will be over. We can move past this and I can get on with training you to be my successor."

Atlas shot him a look filled with disbelief. "I'm not a child."

"You don't have to be a child for a spanking to be effective." Dylan's words were rueful, as he remembered how effective it had been on him. "And if you really believe a spanking isn't going to work... we can figure something else out."

Atlas looked down. "If... if you think it will work..."

Dylan squeezed his shoulder gently. "I'm going to take you over my lap, bare you and then spank you." His voice was soft, as he let Atlas know exactly what was going to happen... and then gently drew the younger man over his knees.

Atlas lay still, only tensing a little as Dylan drew his pants and underwear down in the same motion. He could tell this position took a lot of trust and he placed his hand on Atlas' back, rubbing gently. "I know you feel guilty, but you can't let that tear you up. Once this is over, that's it. We won't need to talk about it again." He lifted his hand and brought it down firmly, the smack echoing in the small room.

The swat drew a jerk and a slight gasp, but no other reaction.

Dylan could see the light pink mark left on Atlas' backside and he then lifted his hand and brought it down again and then a third time, feeling Atlas jerk with each swat.

As Thaddeus had done with him, Dylan completed a circuit of swats down to Atlas' thighs and then started over from the top. Halfway through the second, he began to speak. "I don't blame you for growing impatient and wanting to get back into the limelight. Things were frustrating for all of you. And it wasn't your fault I got captured. I _told_ you to leave. Because protecting you and the others were more important than anything."

"Even... more important than you getting revenge?" Atlas got out.

"I didn't realise for too long, but yes." Dylan paused to deliver some sharper swats to the younger man's sit spots and thighs, shifting him forward to get easier access.

The swats were clearly effective, as Atlas began squirming. "It _was_ my fault, though...!" He sounded close to tears. "I blamed everyone else... but it was all my doing. I put everyone in danger..."

"And everyone got _out_ of danger. You made a mistake. It isn't the end of the world." Dylan began to swat a bit harder and faster. "But letting this guilt tear you apart and take over your life is also a mistake. You need to let go of it. I've forgiven you. Now you just need to forgive yourself." He watched as Atlas' backside turned darker and began to warm up under his palm.

"I... don't know if I can..." Atlas' voice was choked.

"Then we'll work on it. Together. But no more hiding away. No more avoiding me. Are we clear?"

Atlas stiffened over his knee and then slumped. Dylan could hear the sound of tears and he gently rubbed the younger man's back, waiting for the tears to slow and stop before he tugged Atlas' underwear and pants back into place.

Atlas slowly stood, his eyes red-rimmed and wet. Dylan didn't waste any time in wrapping an arm around his shoulders, drawing the younger man in close. "When you've calmed down, we can begin to work on teaching you everything I know."

"Okay." Atlas' voice was soft as he slowly leaned into Dylan's arm... acting more vulnerable than he ever had before.

This was just another parallel between the two of them.

 **The End**


	7. Brothers Again (Ben-Hur 2016)

**Brothers Again**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from the 2016 movie version of Ben-Hur and I'm not making any money from this fic

 **Summary:** Tag to the end of the movie. Guilt isn't so easy to get rid of.

 **Warning(s):** Spanking; spoilers for the 2016 movie version of Ben-Hur; discussions of violent Roman practises (flogging, galley slaves... etc.)

 **Author's Note:** Another movie that immediately sparked an idea

* * *

How he felt _now_ was a stark contrast to how he'd felt over the past five years. Judah couldn't remember a single moment he'd felt at peace during that time. For so long, the only thing that had driven him were thoughts of revenge. Now? The only thing he wanted was to repair his relationship with his brother; to make the most of the time he had with his family, after believing he'd lost them for so long.

Judah had assumed Messala wanted the same. His brother's leg meant he could no longer fight as a warrior... even though it seemed to Judah Messala no longer had those same desires. His brother hadn't voiced wanting to return to the life of a Roman soldier, even if the army _had_ been willing to accept him back. And Messala's leg hadn't slowed him down at all. When he needed to, he leaned on Judah... who would _always_ be there for him.

Judah let his eyes open as he pressed his hand against his wife's soft, warm stomach. "How are you both today?" he whispered.

"Mm." Esther rolled over with a contented sigh, kissing him. "Good morning," she whispered back to him. "Are you getting up now?"

"I've got to go and check on the horses, but you can sleep a little while longer," Judah suggested. "Get some rest." He kissed her hair, inhaling her scent. "We can have a late breakfast together... us and the rest of our family."

Esther nodded, pressing in close with a quiet sigh before she closed her eyes.

Judah waited until his wife's breathing evened out into sleep and then carefully extricated himself from her embrace. With one last lingering look, he walked out of the tent.

Despite the early hour, there was a lot of movement in the camp. Judah exchanged glances and words of greeting with those he knew well... nodded to those he didn't.

Judah wasn't surprised to see Messala by the horses, watching them. Riding wasn't a problem for his brother... but even with the wooden leg carved for him to allow walking unaided, Judah was certain his brother would find chariot racing much more difficult.

"They're good horses," Messala commented, once Judah was close enough they could talk without having to shout.

"They served me well in the race." Judah bumped shoulders with his brother, glancing at Messala's wooden leg. "Are you coping with it?" he asked softly. "No phantom pains?" The guilt that his own desire for revenge had driven his brother to lose part of himself stabbed, as hot and sharp as the moment he'd seen Messala in the Roman camp.

"Don't worry about me, brother. I told you. The days of me fighting are over." Looking away, Messala added, in a voice almost impossible to hear, "I was as much at fault as you. More, even. I should have trusted you." In a much softer voice, he added, "I thank your God every day that my foolishness didn't cost me my family."

Judah opened his mouth, intending to soothe his brother's obvious pain with his words. But he'd tried to broker peace through talking and it hadn't worked. How could he expect to bring peace to his brother through anything other than his actions?

Messala's eyes were focused on the horses, his face an expressionless mask. Judah wasn't sure anyone other than him would be able to read the tense set to his shoulders... the anguish etched deep in the lines on his face; the dark circles under his eyes that indicated just how little he'd been sleeping.

Faced with his brother's pain, Judah's own seemed to pale in comparison. He couldn't do anything for himself... but he knew how he could help Messala.

Judah placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, feeling Messala tense and then relax under his touch. "You haven't wed my sister yet, so I think your tent is going to offer us the most privacy." Or the illusion of it, at least. What he planned wouldn't go unnoticed by their friends... even though he hoped no one would mention it.

"You jest... but I can't take your sister as my wife, no matter how much I want to," Messala whispered. "Not after everything I've done..."

Judah winced, remembering the desperation in his brother's embrace when they'd reconciled. He'd forgiven Messala freely then... but it was much harder to forgive one's self and Judah knew that as strongly as Messala did. "I know you feel guilty, but I think I know a way to help."

"If you want to give me a beating, I'm sure you'll be part of a very large group." There was a heavy amount of self-loathing in Messala's voice.

"I'm not going to beat you." Though Judah knew what he planned wouldn't be far off... but he wouldn't be causing any damage to his brother; and it would come from a place of love, not vengeance.

Messala searched Judah's face, as if he was looking for something. He seemed to find it, because he gave a tired nod and slanted slightly towards him.

The sense of trust was humbling; more so because Judah knew he didn't deserve it. He pushed aside his own feelings of guilt and wrapped an arm around Messala's shoulders. While his brother didn't need the support any longer, Judah felt the need to hold him... to make up for the five long years when the only emotion he'd felt had been an intense hatred for the man he loved and trusted above all others.

Messala didn't say anything, but he leaned into Judah's touch and allowed himself to be guided towards his tent.

Judah let his breath out in a quiet sigh as they stood inside the tent. "I don't believe this will be as secret as I'd like, but I don't think anyone will mention it to either of us." As he spoke, he stepped towards the sleeping mat, supporting his brother's weight.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to punish you, brother. Not because I hate you or continue to hold any anger towards you. I have forgiven you, the same way you have forgiven me." Judah turned to face Messala, sitting on the sleeping mat and looking up at him. "By this, I hope you will be able to forgive yourself."

Messala was an intelligent man. The moment realisation hit was obvious and he sighed, closing his eyes in resignation. "For five years, I hated myself for what happened to my family," he whispered. "My life was worthless... and then I saw you again, but you hated me. It was no less than how I felt about myself... but I let that hate become directed towards you. I'm sorry." The last words were a whisper... a breath of tortured air.

Judah didn't want to do this. His brother hurt so much, he couldn't fathom causing him more pain. But everything screamed at him this wouldn't be about pain or getting revenge. He _loved_ Messala... and it was that pure emotion driving his actions.

Messala didn't fight when Judah drew him in closer. He didn't struggle when Judah helped him over his lap, careful not to cause his leg to come loose. Messala's voice was muffled in his arm when he spoke. "I submit willingly to you, my brother. I trust you to punish me fairly and as I deserve."

"I love you, brother." Judah's voice was filled with emotion as he tried to convince Messala that he was still worthy... _still his brother_... in spite of everything.

Messala shuddered and reached down to grasp Judah's ankle. "Thank you for convincing me of that love, even though I don't deserve it."

Judah let his hand rest gently on Messala's back, feeling the tension under the surface. He pushed the tunic up and out of the way, wincing when he saw the unmistakeable marks of a whip. He shouldn't have been surprised, as floggings were common in the Roman army. But it was just more evidence of things his brother had experienced without Judah next to him.

Forcing those thoughts away, Judah pushed Messala's trousers down to his ankles, baring his entire bottom and thighs.

Messala was tense across Judah's knees, as if he planned to take the punishment as stoically as Judah imagined he'd taken his floggings. But his brother wasn't going to react in the same way he did with the Romans. Judah would make sure of _that_.

Judah placed his hand on one of the marks left by the lash, remembering the sharp pain of being beaten as a galley slave. "Tell me why you were flogged."

Some of the tension fled Messala, as if chased away by the strangeness of the question. He answered without hesitation, though. "I was only flogged once. Five years ago..."

"Because of me." Judah faltered, no longer as sure of his decision as he had been... not knowing his brother had been punished because Pontius Pilate believed Judah had been sheltering zealots.

"I failed you. I'm sorry, Judah. I was only flogged once. But you were punished for a _long_ time."

The pain in his voice firmed Judah's decision. He couldn't watch Messala continue to punish himself. He drew in a deep breath and then lifted his hand, bringing it down in a hard smack that he then repeated.

Messala was quiet and still as Judah completed a full circuit of swats, though he could feel the fine trembling in his brother's body. By the time he started over from the top, Messala's skin had turned a shade darker in colour and it was impossible to distinguish the individual marks from where Judah had smacked.

By the time Judah had finished a further two circuits of swats, he could feel Messala shifting slightly in response... but there was no other reaction from his brother. He paused, resting his hand on his brother's warmed bottom. "I know how guilty you feel, Messala. You sentenced Mother and Tirzah to death... and me to the life of a galley slave. _You didn't trust me_."

"I know." Messala's voice hitched. "I'm sorry, brother... Judah... I hate myself for what I did to you. I could have lost all of you..."

"But you didn't," Judah replied. "You made a mistake. I made a mistake... and we were fortunate nothing worse came from those mistakes. I don't want revenge on you, Messala. I don't want you to suffer. But I need my brother back. I need you to stop feeling so guilty, because I've forgiven you. And you need to forgive yourself." He continued to swat harder with every word, hearing the soft whimpers escaping Messala. " _I love you_. I have done since we took you in... since you became my brother..."

The sob was quiet but still audible. Messala let go of Judah's ankle and threw his hand back. Judah caught his hand, lacing his fingers through his brother's. "Don't let this destroy us..."

"I won't. I promise." Messala slumped over Judah's lap as he cried quietly. "I'm sorry, Judah... I love you..."

Judah sighed and used his free hand to tug his brother's clothing back into place. Helping Messala up into his arms, he hugged his brother tight to himself. "I don't blame you," he whispered. "You have to stop blaming yourself."

Messala's own arms went around Judah and he pressed in close, crying quietly into Judah's shoulder. "I know you forgave me already," he whispered. "I just... I need to hear it."

"I forgive you, brother." Judah put all the sincerity he could into his voice. "And I love you. And even when that love was so painful, I thought it was hate... I never stopped. I want you to know that."

"And I love you too," Messala whispered. He wiped at his eyes and nestled in close. "Thank you."

Judah couldn't help a slight smile, relieved to finally be able to heal from this. "Any time, brother. I mean it."

 **The End**


	8. The Strangest Meal (iZombie)

**The Strangest Meal**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from the television series iZombie and I'm not making any money from this fic

 **Summary:** Liv shoots. And then she consumes a brain that gives her some very interesting ideas

 **Warning(s):** Spanking; spoilers for most of the first season of iZombie; AU; violence; potentially triggering material (suicidal thoughts)

 **Pairing:** Liv/Lowell

 **Author's Note:** I've mixed up some of the events in this; such as Lowell not dying, but Ravi gets distracted and is bitten by the rat, but I hope it still all makes sense. I don't tend to write F/M spanking pairings that often... but this series actually gave me these two ideas, so... I hope you have fun reading this next story in the Twenty Fics series! But it is more of a crack!fic

* * *

The moment she knew what Lowell was about to do, Liv's eyes widened. But her hands were moving without conscious thought, reloading the rifle. Even though she was operating purely on instinct and _knew_ she was moving fast... as she watched Lowell turn on Blaine, it seemed to take an age to have the rifle loaded. Her finger squeezed the trigger as she sighted down the scope.

The cough the rifle gave was soft; softer than a bullet taking a person's life should have been. Even if the person was a zombie... even though it was _Blaine_... Liv watched as he collapsed on the roof, a bloody hole in his forehead. And she thought she should feel _something_. Guilt, maybe? Certainly relief that he was gone... and hopeful that whatever he'd been building had gone with him.

But... all she felt was numb. Like she had when she'd eaten the sociopath's brain, only this was different. It was like her reactions were _postponed_ , rather than missing.

Liv focused on Lowell, who was still standing, but now facing her. For just a second, she thought about shooting him in the head and then herself. Get rid of the zombie problem. She should have died on the yacht, after all.

But those thoughts didn't belong to her. Blaine was dead. Lowell was alive. Liv _had_ to believe the threat was gone now... at least the main one. If Blaine was the forerunner of an invasion? Well, she was going to have to work with Ravi to track down anyone Blaine might have changed.

Liv worked fast to dismantle the rifle, noting with a kind of absent fascination that her hands were shaking. She hadn't thought past killing Blaine... but she wasn't sure what to do _now_. Even burning his body might cause problems, especially if there would be people looking for him. She should have planned for this better... she should have warned Ravi something was going to happen.

The ringing of her phone startled Liv out of her thoughts. She checked the display, not sure how she felt when she saw Lowell's name come up. After a brief hesitation, she answered. "You nearly got yourself killed."

"I had a vision. Of one of those kids." Lowell sounded shaken. "I knew he had to die... even if killing him meant _I_ would die as well." There was a strong note of determination in his voice that then faded as he asked, "What's the plan now? Are we going to run the body to the incinerator? I'm sure I _could_ open a few doors..."

"I'm going to need to contact Ravi."

There was a pause, then, "You didn't run this by your boss first? What if he thinks this was a bad idea?"

"Not all zombies are like us. And I know he understands the danger involved now." Though Liv couldn't get the image of her boss in the hole out of her head. His eagerness to find a cure had already put him in danger. How long would it be before Ravi's determination to find a cure got him killed? What if she wasn't with him the next time he did something so dangerous? Or, worse, what if she _was_ there... but didn't care enough to save him?

"Liv."

Lowell's voice pierced through her worry, though it sounded like he'd been trying to get her attention for a while. She voiced an acknowledgement.

"Are _you_ okay?"

Liv was silent, not sure how to answer that. She wasn't even sure how she felt about it. Relieved? Yeah, okay. That was a big part of it. But she was also scared. She was just starting to think about how close Lowell had come to being killed... and that was two of the more important people in her life who had so casually put themselves in danger.

She hadn't answered Lowell's question yet... and if she didn't say anything, he was going to worry even more. "I don't know," she answered truthfully. "I'll let you know when I do."

"Okay." Lowell was quiet for a second or two. "I'm not going to be the only one he turned. I don't want you in the firing line if one of them wants revenge. I think we should dump the body." He paused. "I dug one grave already. I can dig another one. Bury him six feet under. No one's going to find him there."

"You're right." But Liv knew she was still going to have to tell Ravi... if only so he was prepared for being questioned.

"Will you come with me?"

Liv wondered how much more there was to his question. Was it simply her company, or did he want her there in the hopes her presence might chase away his nightmares? Of course, there was no other answer she could give. No matter how torn she was right now... she was _going_ to go with him.

* * *

"We got rid of one problem."

Ravi jumped, turning a startled and almost guilty look on Liv, standing in the doorway. "That's great." He paused and then frowned. "Which problem?"

"Blaine." Liv stepped into the morgue, wishing she could feel the extreme in the temperature... instead of the numbness that was her constant companion now.

"As in... he's no longer among the living?" Ravi quickly stepped over to her. "How are you doing?"

"I'm..." Liv's voice trailed off. She couldn't say she was okay. Not yet. She changed the subject. "What's wrong?"

"Why do you think something's wrong? Is it because I didn't ask to see the body?" Ravi frowned. "I wouldn't want anything to come back to you, Liv. I hope you know that."

"You're acting evasive. Like not meeting my eyes." Liv paused to wonder where the observations were coming from. Once a brain had passed out of her system, she lost the skills she gained from consuming them... didn't she? But the Liv of _before_ would never have noticed those kind of things. "What happened?" she pressed.

Ravi paused, but then spoke quickly with barely a pause between each word. "The question of whether the zombie virus can be passed between different species has been answered. Probably."

"When was that a question?" Liv's eyes widened. "What happened?"

"I just got bitten by the zombie rat. A temporary distraction. I didn't want to worry you," he added, in a much softer tone.

Liv didn't know what to say. Ravi had already put himself in danger once. Admittedly, she should have been more on the ball; if she hadn't been experiencing the sociopathic tendencies, she would never have taken her eyes off Ravi long enough for him to fall into the pit.

"So... we're okay?" Ravi watched her carefully.

"What do we have?" Liv looked past Ravi at the body, covered with a sheet pulled right up over its face.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Ravi's voice was filled with concern. "You just had to do something difficult. You can take the day off."

"No. I need to be here." Liv walked over to the body.

"Okay." Ravi stepped over and raised the sheet, folding it back to reveal the body of a middle-aged man, with tanned skin and black hair shot through with grey. "This guy's a bit of a mystery. Not his identity," he added. "But how he died." He pushed the hair back from the body's neck.

Liv stared at the two pin prick shaped marks in the man's throat. "How much blood is gone?" She looked more closely, but couldn't tell how pale the body was under the tan. There was very little blood surrounding the wounds, though.

"Either he wasn't killed where the body was gone, or a lot of the blood was drained somehow," Ravi replied. "At first glance, he probably died from shock." He paused, briefly, then added, "You know, if there _are_ vampires here..."

"They're probably not the dark, brooding heroes like Twilight's... or Angel. Although there _is_ a condition where sufferers believe they _are_ vampires and drink blood." As she cut into the man's forehead, Liv wondered why she was babbling. It wasn't to distract herself from her coming meal. Even though there was still a very small part of her that recoiled with disgust from her dietary requirements, she was used to it by now... and she had ways she could at least tolerate even the most disgusting of brains.

No. Liv was still torn by thoughts of Lowell and Ravi both putting themselves in danger.

"I took the liberty of picking up some very hot curry." Ravi walked over to the counter, where he usually kept his lunch, and picked up a takeaway box he carried back to her.

"Thanks." It didn't take long for bits of the brain to be mixed in with the curry. Liv ate, wishing she could enjoy the taste.

Just as she was finishing as much of the meal as she could stomach, Clive walked into the morgue. "You've seen the body?" He rushed on without waiting for a response, obviously seeing the man _had_ been brought in. "Have you had any visions yet?"

"Not yet." Liv smiled and dumped the remains of her curry into the trash. Clive had begun to show an unhealthy interest in what she was eating... and she didn't want to risk him figuring out her secret (or theorising worse things) in the same way Ravi had.

"Okay. So do you want to come with me? Ask some questions? See what shakes loose in your head?" Clive looked at Ravi. "Or do you need her here?"

"No. I don't need..."

"Actually, can I catch up with you?" Liv interrupted. "I need to talk to my boss."

Clive gave her a weird look. "Sure. Just give me a call when you're done." He headed out of the morgue.

"Did you just use me as an excuse to avoid giving anything away to him or having to lie?" Ravi asked. "I know you've kept your secret from him, but even so, I'm completely fine with that. Do you want me to invent an emergency to keep you here?"

"No, nothing like that." But the thought of lying gave her pause. Lying to her friends... to her _family_... had never felt right to her before. But the thought of lying _now_ was like a physical pain.

"Oh." Ravi looked confused for a second. "Then what do you need to talk to me about?"

"You lied to me. Or you kept something dangerous from me, which is the same thing." Liv frowned. "And it's not the first time you've done something dangerous."

"The first time didn't really count, since you were there. And you saved me."

"You can't always rely on that," Liv said. "If I'm not there... or if I've eaten a brain that doesn't agree with me... you've _got_ to think about keeping yourself safe."

"Liv." Ravi looked serious. "Finding the cure isn't going to be a walk in the park. I'm going to have to take chances. Do you really want to still be waiting when everyone around you has grey hair and wrinkles? I don't even know what it'll do to your physiology once you reach chronological old age."

"And I appreciate what you're doing. But I can't be cured at the expense of something happening to you. I know you're my boss, but you're also my friend." Liv felt her voice hitch as it grew more emotional.

Ravi winced, making it clear he'd heard the note in her voice. "I didn't think of that. I'll be more careful next time," he promised.

"I'm not sure I can trust that."

"You can trust _me_." Ravi sounded shocked. His eyes darted towards the dead man.

"I think he was in a discipline relationship." At least that was the only sense Liv could make from what was in her head right now.

Ravi frowned. "BDSM?"

"Yeah, but... not the lifestyle. Just the discipline part."

"Then whatever you're thinking, it doesn't have anything to do with what we're talking about... does it?" But Ravi sounded unsure.

"You and Lowell are two of the most important people in my life... and _both_ of you put yourselves in danger." Liv hesitated, but although she knew a lot of what she was feeling came from the brain she'd consumed, enough of those emotions were linked to her own that she wasn't fighting where it was leading.

Ravi looked like he wasn't sure whether to be happy Liv cared... or concerned about the direction this was going in. Finally, he seemed to settle on, "But I'm your boss."

Liv nodded. "But _I'm_ the one with the most knowledge about zombies. _I'm_ the one you should have talked to and _I'm_ the one you should have listened to. I can't take the chance that next time, your not listening will end with you hurt. Or killed. Or even turned." Her voice became a whisper at the last.

"Okay." Ravi's voice was barely audible. He was looking at Liv like she'd grown two heads... but there was a submissive note in his voice. "I still think this has only been brought on by the brain you ate, but if it's so important to you..." His voice trailed off. "I don't know. If you think this is deserved... if you care enough to want to do this... I have to respect you."

Half of Liv was listening to him. The other half was cataloguing the lack of privacy they were facing. She couldn't take care of him in here, where just anyone could walk in. Maybe they could take an extended break, but what if they were needed and someone came looking?

"Might I suggest we continue this discussion later at your apartment; or mine, if you think we won't be alone?" Ravi said. "Of course, maybe the brain's effects will have worn off by the time we get to this evening. How long do they usually last?"

"At least a couple of days, though it varies," Liv answered. "And Peyton is working late tonight."

"So your place, then." Ravi swallowed and suddenly looked nervous.

"Yes... but I'm going to catch up with Clive," Liv said. "If I don't see you before this evening, I'll text you the address."

* * *

The day had been a long one... longer than Liv had expected or anticipated. Her visions had been tiny little snippets that showed her very little about the case... but more than she'd ever wanted to know about the victim's lifestyle. And the rush of protection she'd felt for the grieving partner (although younger, the man hadn't struck her as a submissive... and he'd been a fireman) had been disconcerting, to say the least.

On her way back to the apartment, Liv had gone via one of the stores to buy a bottle of rich, red _very expensive_ wine. Although aware the craving for the alcohol didn't belong to her, there was no harm in indulging in it. It wasn't as if she could do any _more_ damage to her body.

Sitting in her apartment, Liv sipped the wine as she flicked idly through the news. While she couldn't taste the wine, there was the _memory_ of the taste... and it didn't matter if the memory was hers or belonged to the victim.

The buzzer sounded outside and Liv stood, walking over to the door. She opened it to reveal Ravi standing outside, dressed in casual clothes. He gave her an awkward smile. "I wasn't sure if I should be bringing anything."

"Come in." Liv stepped back from the door.

Ravi walked inside, nudging the door closed with his foot, and then looked at Liv. "Is this still happening?"

Liv nodded. "There isn't any other way I can think of to deal with this." To make sure he didn't continue taking chances with his life. She walked through to the living room, aware of Ravi following behind her.

"So..." Ravi stood awkwardly. "What do you want me to do?"

Liv switched the television off and then walked over to the couch, taking a seat and looking at him. "Come here, please."

Ravi frowned. "I know I'm not exactly a big specimen... and you _are_ a zombie... but I don't think going over your knee will be comfortable for either of us."

Liv thought about arguing the point... but then again, although they were friends, Ravi was still her boss; despite the fact he was submitting to punishment from her. This was going to be hard enough without forcing him into a position he wasn't comfortable with.

Standing up, Liv nodded. "Take down your pants and underpants and bend over the arm of the couch," she directed.

Ravi hesitated, looking like he still wasn't sure she was serious. But he then nodded and his hands went to his waist. After one last glance, he pushed his pants down... but shuffled over to the couch and bent over the arm before reaching back and pushing his boxers down too.

Liv paused. Not because she was having second thoughts, but because she wasn't sure how to proceed. Endangering himself was a _really_ bad thing... but although Liv's sense was that something like this should be dealt with severely, she was aware this had never been an issue between them before... not to mention, Ravi was her boss; but then again, using her hand would indicate a more personal slant that didn't exist between them. Of course, having him bare was also personal...

And Liv was over-thinking this. If she didn't go through with it, their relationship would be strained and awkward. And she _needed_ a way to stop him endangering himself again. Ravi wasn't her boyfriend, but she did care about him. And if this worked on him, maybe it would work on Lowell as well... and she could be certain they wouldn't be lost to her.

With that in mind, Liv uttered a soft, "I'll be right back," before she walked through to the bedroom.

It didn't take long for Liv to lay eyes on what she was looking for... her hairbrush. She picked it up and returned to the living area.

Ravi hadn't moved; or, if he had, it wasn't noticeable. He looked at Liv as she stepped back into the room, his eyes going to the brush she clasped. He didn't voice a protest, though, instead turning his gaze to the wall.

Taking a deep breath (not that she had to breathe, but the habit was still there occasionally), Liv moved to the sofa, taking position next to her boss... next to Ravi.

Lifting the brush, Liv brought it down on the centre of Ravi's backside, flinching at the sound of the crack. That was nothing compared to the high-pitched yelp that escaped Ravi before he clamped his lips together tight.

Liv forced herself to bring the brush down a second and third time, careful to avoid swatting in the same spot. Each strike made a slightly darker mark on Ravi's skin, but apart from that one first yelp, he was still and quiet as Liv worked her way down to his thighs.

When Liv began again from the crest of Ravi's backside, he began to shift slightly, small gasps and cut-off whimpers escaping his lips. He kept himself in position, though, and Liv could see the tension in the way he held himself stiff, only jerking a tiny amount each time the brush connected with his backside.

Realising the spanking wasn't having the effect it should, Liv decided to try a different tactic. Bracing her hand on his back, she brought the brush down in a harder smack in the middle of his backside, then repeated the swat in the same place.

Without giving Ravi a chance to catch his breath, Liv continued to bring the brush down in random swats all over his bottom and thighs. She didn't use any more strength, but she did go a bit faster.

Judging the spanking was beginning to take effect from the way Ravi no longer seemed able to keep still, Liv slowed right down, landing the strikes with a few seconds pause between each as she began to speak. "I appreciate how hard you've tried to find the cure, but you can't do it at the expense of your own life, Ravi. I don't want to watch you die..." Her voice broke with emotion and when she continued, it was in a whisper. "I can't watch you die because of me..."

Ravi didn't say anything, but he slumped, turning his face away as if to shield the tears Liv had seen falling down his cheeks.

It was hard, but Liv forced herself to continue using the brush, allowing it to land in slow, hard strikes. While Ravi _was_ crying, she could tell he wasn't yet at the point he needed to be.

"I'm sorry..." The apology was nearly lost, it was so quiet. Ravi cleared his throat and said, his voice wet, "I know you don't want anything to happen to me. I... promise I'll be more careful. I'll run everything by you in the future. I promise."

Liv brought the spanking to a stop as she saw Ravi slump over the arm of the sofa. His crying was soft, muffled in his arms, but it was still audible.

Placing the brush on one of the armchairs, Liv put her hand on Ravi's shoulder and squeezed gently. "I believe you," she whispered.

"If you didn't, this would have sucked a whole lot more." Ravi gingerly stood, reaching back to pull his underwear and pants back into place... though he hissed quietly as he did so, before looking at Liv. "If I didn't say it already... I'll be glad when this brain has worked its way out of you."

"Do you want to stay and have a drink?" Liv asked. "Lowell isn't due to arrive for a while and I doubt I'll finish this whole bottle of wine by myself."

"Sure." Ravi eyed the sofa. "But if it's all the same to you... I think I'll stand."

* * *

Ravi had only stuck around for about an hour. While he'd had a glass of wine, things had been quite awkward between them; and Liv could only hope their working relationship might be back to normal by the time she returned to work.

While she waited for Lowell to arrive, Liv paced, filled with nervous energy. She'd thought Ravi would be the hardest one to convince (although she wasn't sure she could have forced him if he'd been completely against the idea). But did that mean she was going to have a fight on her hands when it came to Lowell? Or would he understand the same way Ravi had?

A knock at the door brought Liv out of her thoughts and she stopped pacing, walking over to the door and opening it.

Lowell stood on the other side. He smiled and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her lips.

Liv found herself responding without thinking, but when he would have deepened the kiss, she took a step back. "We need to talk."

"That sounds ominous." Lowell stepped into the apartment, allowing the door to close behind him. "You're not breaking up with me? You haven't suddenly decided you can make things work with your ex?"

"No... nothing like that." Liv hesitated, wondering if she should continue down this route. But she wanted to keep Ravi safe; and that feeling was so much stronger when it came to Lowell. She glanced at the hairbrush and then at him, opening her mouth.

"Did you eat a brain that didn't agree with you?" Lowell asked.

"Not exactly. I mean, I did eat a brain, but I couldn't say it doesn't agree with me." Liv sighed. "This is a bit awkward, but... you must have noticed things have been somewhat strained after what happened with Blaine."

"Yes, but I don't really understand why," Lowell admitted. "I thought we were in agreement he needed to die. And after I had that vision, I knew he couldn't live. So I don't know what I did to upset you, but whatever it was, I'm sorry."

"I'm not upset with you for trying to kill Blaine," Liv said, seeing how sincere he was, even if she wasn't sure whether that skill was hers or was borrowed. "But I told you I couldn't do it. Which meant we should have regrouped." She swallowed, trying to force away the tears that threatened. "You didn't know I could protect you if something went wrong..."

"All I thought was that he had to die," Lowell admitted. "I couldn't think of anything else."

"I thought _you_ were going to die," Liv whispered, _finally_ letting herself feel just how scared she'd been. She couldn't get rid of the image in her head of Blaine pointing the gun. If she'd only been a little slower... she could have lost him.

Lowell nodded, his gaze fixed on her. "I'm sorry." His voice was quiet.

"I believe you." Liv hesitated. "But I need to make sure you don't do something like this again. _I can't lose you_." Even though she wasn't sure exactly what she _did_ feel for him... she knew that much.

"Did you have something in mind?"

"That's where the brain comes into it. The guy was in a discipline relationship. His partner was... well, if his _partner_ had done anything _close_ to what you did, my guy would have spanked him."

Lowell stared at her. For several seconds, it seemed like he wasn't going to respond. Finally, he spoke, sounding like he was expecting her to tell him it was a joke any moment. " _We're_ not in a discipline relationship."

"No. But you still put yourself in danger. You were prepared to sacrifice yourself to kill Blaine and that's something I can't accept. The original plan was for me to kill him. If that had gone wrong, he wouldn't have known it was me who had made the attempt; at least not for sure. But you made _yourself_ a target..." Liv paused, feeling herself getting choked up once more.

Lowell winced, but didn't apologise again. Instead, he asked softly, "What do you want me to do?"

Liv wondered what it said about their relationship that both Ravi and now Lowell had agreed to what she was demanding. Of course, Lowell's easy submission _could_ be explained away by him having consumed a brain with those tendencies...

Lowell was waiting for a response and Liv pushed aside the distracting thoughts to focus on him. She thought about having him bend over the couch... but while that had worked for Ravi, her relationship with Lowell was much more personal; and she knew she couldn't treat him the same way she had her boss.

Liv walked over to the couch and sat down, then held eye contact with her... was boyfriend even the right word? "Come here, please."

"You want me to bend _over_ your lap?" An uncertain look came over Lowell's face, but he walked over to stand by Liv's knee anyway.

"Yes. Because you put yourself in danger... I could have lost you." It might have been the brain encouraging her actions, but the emotions all belonged to Liv. She put her hand out, slipping it into his, and drew him forward.

As his legs hit Liv's thighs, Lowell looked at her... as if to see if she was really serious. He then bent forward at the waist, placing himself over her knees.

Liv hesitated, taken aback by the level of trust. Then she decided that it didn't matter. Whether Lowell was submitting to her because he was _choosing_ to... or because he'd eaten a brain that awakened his submissive tendencies... it didn't change anything. She still needed to make sure there wasn't a repeat.

Resting her hand on Lowell's waist, Liv considered her next move. She'd spanked Ravi bare... but then again, she hadn't taken him over her knees. At the same time, though, Lowell was her boyfriend... and it _should_ be more personal with him.

Not allowing herself to keep over-thinking, Liv slid her hand beneath Lowell's stomach, unbuttoning and then unzipping his jeans. She then slipped her fingers into the waistband of his underwear and tugged them down along with his pants, leaving Lowell bare across her lap.

Lifting her hand, Liv brought it down firmly. The crisp smack echoed through the room and garnered a jerk from Lowell.

Liv forced herself to continue, covering every inch of his backside down to mid-thigh in the firm smacks.

When Liv started to cover skin she'd already swatted, she felt Lowell begin to shift in response. While she knew the pain wouldn't last long for their kind, the repetitive nature of the smacks meant he didn't have a chance to start healing before Liv retuned to pay attention to each area.

Finishing a third circuit, Liv paused, noticing Lowell's backside was flushed pink. She brought her hand down with all her strength on the centre of his bottom and was rewarded with a grunt. "I know you were trying to do the right thing." Another hard smack. "Maybe you thought dying along with Blaine was worth the cost..."

"It was." Lowell had been quiet while Liv was spanking... now it sounded like his words were torn from his throat. "When I had the vision, I _knew_ he had to die."

"It wasn't your responsibility to kill him." Liv realised she was close to tears. She forced herself to continue speaking, but couldn't carry on smacking. "It was _mine_ , I know. But when I froze... when I told you I couldn't do it... you _shouldn't have_ tried to kill him." Her voice hitched. "Even if you thought your life was worth it... it wasn't. _It's not_." She closed her eyes, feeling the truth in what she was about to say. "Because... I love you too," she whispered.

Lowell went still over her lap and she heard what sounded like a sob. It was quickly stifled, though, and then he was pushing himself up off her lap. His arms slid around her and then his lips were on hers... and all she could do was hold on tight and be thankful she hadn't lost him.

 **The End**


	9. Shot Fired (Hamilton Musical)

**Shot Fired**

 **Disclaimer 1:** I don't own anything from the musical Hamilton and I'm not making any money from this fic

 **Disclaimer 2:** This fic is only based on the musical Hamilton and has nothing to do with the real-life historical figure of Hamilton; or indeed any of the other historical figures who appear in the musical

 **Summary:** Burr shoots, but only wounds Hamilton. Later, he approaches his one-time friend for forgiveness

 **Warning(s):** Spanking; spoilers for the musical Hamilton; AU; mentions of violence

 **Author's Note:** This is another plot bunny that nibbled at me until I gave it attention. Another one in the Twenty Fics

* * *

The gunshot sounded abnormally loud. Burr watched as the gun fell from Hamilton's hand; as the other man slumped, blood gushing from the wound in his shoulder.

There was movement and then people were rushing to Hamilton's side. No one was paying attention to Burr; which was for the best as, now he'd shot his one-time friend, the sense of guilt was like a stab to the heart and he didn't know how he could face _anyone_ , let alone Hamilton, who he could see would survive… even from where he was standing. The blood flow had been staunched and even though Hamilton's face was pale, the glimpses Burr had of him didn't indicate he was in danger of losing his life.

Hamilton had aimed at the sky. Burr had convinced himself the other man wanted him dead and had fired accordingly. Now he knew how wrong he was, he felt a combination of relief and guilt.

Hamilton's wound would be stitched and provided it did not become infected, he would recover. He would recover, while his son had not; even though both had taken the same actions.

Perhaps he was more of a coward than Hamilton. Certainly, Burr knew he couldn't face him. He'd not had the strength to aim at the sky and trust in honour and friendship. And now? Now, he didn't have the courage to face the man he'd wounded.

No one was watching him. Not one person saw Burr slip quietly away, aching with the knowledge that, even though he hadn't _killed_ Hamilton, he was still going to be seen as the villain.

* * *

Rumours of Hamilton's condition spread through the streets. Burr listened enough to assure himself the other man would survive; but otherwise, he kept his distance from most of the people who knew the actions he'd taken. It helped that he could be there for his daughter. Knowing she needed him; that she didn't blame him, even though she had to have heard the whispers.

It was another seven days before Burr heard anything more of Hamilton. He knew both Eliza and Angelica had been at Hamilton's side as he recovered, but there was talk the older had returned to her home, since Hamilton's life was now no longer in danger.

Burr had taken to walking the streets on his own late at night, when no one else was awake and his thoughts and guilt kept him from sleep. He walked them now, head down as he struggled to focus through his own emotions.

Dawn's light began to break over the horizon. Burr realised as the rays began to light the streets around him. Through that light, he also became aware his feet had taken him along a familiar path. He now stood outside Hamilton's home, looking up at the building. It would be easy to turn around and retreat. Easy, but wrong.

He couldn't continue refusing to face the other man.

As Burr walked to the door, he thought about what he was about to do. If he truly wanted to speak with his former friend, he should send a message to Hamilton and wait for a response… or a lack of one, which would be a reply on its own.

Burr braced himself. He raised his fist and knocked on the door, preparing himself for Eliza to answer and send him away… for Hamilton to answer and… what? He wasn't even sure.

For a while, there was nothing. Burr thought about walking away. No answer was still an answer. And he wouldn't have to come back, because he'd tried. He could almost convince himself he would be willing to accept the end of their friendship if Hamilton wasn't prepared to forgive him.

The door was opened, pulling Burr out of his thoughts. He took a deep breath as he met gazes with Hamilton. _Alexander_ Hamilton.

Every word… every apology… every explanation… disappeared. Burr couldn't find any words. He wanted to turn and run. He wanted to apologise. He wanted… he wasn't sure what he wanted to do.

"You look tired."

Startled, Burr's gaze darted towards Alexander's face. The other man was watching him with concern. There was no pain on his face and his skin was back to its normal colouring. He didn't know what to do about the concern he could hear, so he ignored it. "You've recovered?"

Alexander gave a single nod. "Come in." He stepped back from the door. "Eliza is still sleeping… come into the parlour," he invited.

Somehow, Burr knew that, if he stepped inside, he wouldn't be able to continue running away. If he walked into Alexander's house, he would have to face how he had wronged his friend. It would be so easy to turn and run. Easy… and wrong. He stepped inside the house, following Alexander through to the parlour.

"You didn't come to see me." Alexander didn't speak until they were inside the room. His voice was quiet, without accusation or blame.

But Burr's own mind carried enough blame for both of them. "I didn't want to upset you."

"No," Alexander corrected. "You didn't want to see what we wrought."

Burr shook his head. "It was _my_ responsibility. _My_ doing."

"It takes two to duel."

"I should have aimed at the sky."

The words lingered between them. Burr couldn't meet Alexander's eyes. He was filled with too much shame… guilt… pain.

"You are my friend, Aaron. No matter what the past has been between us, your friendship has always been important to me," Alexander said quietly. "There is a lot that has happened between us. One of us could have easily been killed in the duel. But we both live. And I'm thankful for that. I would prefer to live the rest of our lives with peace between us."

"I would like that as well," Burr admitted.

"Then…" Hamilton stepped past Burr, pushing the door closed, before turning back to him. "You stayed away from me because you felt guilty. And that's the main thing that brought you _here_ , isn't it?" His hands went to his belt and he removed it.

Burr took a step backwards. "I won't let you thrash me."

"I could lay you across my knees, but I would have thought you'd prefer to be punished as a man and not a child."

Burr opened his mouth to deny it; to claim he didn't need to be punished at all. But the words caught in his throat. He _did_ feel guilty. He _did_ believe he deserved to be punished. If he didn't, Alexander's actions wouldn't fill him with such relief.

He'd nearly killed his friend. It wasn't something he could just let go of.

Burr didn't say anything. He didn't have to. He walked to the wall and placed his hands on the brick, staring at one particular point and tensing as he waited for the first strike of the belt.

He didn't have long to wait. Alexander's hand settled on his lower back and a second later, the belt landed hard across his backside.

Burr jerked, but bit his lip against making a sound. When the second and third strikes landed, his teeth sank hard enough to draw blood. But he managed to hold still and keep silent as the belt continued down to his thighs.

When the belting began to cover already marked skin, Burr couldn't stay silent or still. He shifted from one foot to the other, groaning under his breath as tears filled his eyes.

Alexander didn't speak and all Burr could do was try to breathe through the painful thrashing and not lose control of himself completely. But the silence from his friend made him feel alone. The belt was painful, but nothing compared to the pain of his guilt… and nothing compared to how guilty he would have felt had Alexander died.

"We both made mistakes, Aaron." Alexander's voice was soft, but still audible over the snap of the belt. "And I know we don't share the same beliefs… but your friendship is still important to me. And I would like to keep it. I don't want you to stop visiting me… to stay away from me."

Burr breathed out and found himself crying harder. His body slumped against the wall and his entire bottom and thighs felt as if he'd sat in a fire. It had been a _long_ time since he'd cried like this; but with his tears, he felt the guilt begin to leave him.

When the thrashing finally came to a stop, Burr stood slowly, turning face Hamilton. "Thank you." His voice was quiet but firm… and he could finally look his friend in the eye.

 **The End**


	10. The Neutral Zone (Thunderheart)

**The Neutral Zone**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from the movie Thunderheart and I'm not making any money from this fic

 **Summary:** Set after the movie's events. Ray finds himself drawn back to the reservation and to one man in particular; but past actions still torment him with guilt

 **Warning(s):** Spanking; spoilers for the whole of the movie Thunderheart; sexual scenes between two men; some violence

 **Pairing:** Walter Crow Horse/Ray Levoi

 **Author's Note:** Next fandom in the Twenty Fics series. Inspired by Carlyinrome's fics on Livejournal. I was so taken with the pairing, I bought the DVD of the movie so I could watch it and then got inspired, so… here we are.

* * *

It didn't take long for Ray to get what he needed to in order. He'd returned to the city long enough to get his affairs in order; to sell his house and request a transfer. It wouldn't have been a problem if he had to just leave, as he was certain he could find law enforcement work when he returned to the reservation. But given how much he knew, Ray's hunch that his bosses would be eager to get rid of him quickly proved to be correct.

Ray had given up on getting rid of the dog. Truth be told, he liked the company. Returning to his house had been a lonely prospect. Which was probably the main reason why he jumped at the dream-vision that may or may not have been encouraging him to return to the reservation. Possibly because it had been intended as a suggestion or guidance, rather than an order.

As he drove, Ray glanced sideways at the dog. "What do you think? The spirits carry news of our return to Grandfather and Crow Horse?" His smile faded as he thought about the latter. Crow Horse was the main driving force behind his desire to return, if Ray was honest with himself. In comparison to Cooch, Crow Horse had been a much better partner. A much better _friend_.

Jimmy barked and Ray glanced in the mirror. He could see the flashing lights of a familiar-looking police car and he couldn't help a grin as he slowed down, pulling over to the side of the road. "Guess he knew I was coming. Either that, or I was over the speed limit."

Parking the car, Ray watched in the mirror as Crow Horse, having parked his car, ambled towards his. "I wasn't going that fast, was I?" he asked with a smile.

"Are you just passing through, or did you FBI types find another reason to come back?" Crow Horse asked.

"Nope, just me. And Jimmy," Ray added. "I put in for a transfer here. I think they were eager to get rid of me, after the whole scandal with Cooch."

"I'm surprised they let you come back and didn't arrest you on some made-up charge."

"Does Grandfather know I'm back?"

"Who do you think sent me here?" Crow Horse asked.

"I'm sure you've told me to listen to the wind. I'm surprised it didn't tell you I was coming back," Ray teased.

"Not this time, Hoss. Do you have somewhere to stay?"

"I thought I'd stay in the motel until I could find a good place."

"You're not staying in a motel," Crow Horse replied. "I'll get back in the car and you can follow me back to my house."

"Okay." Ray watched the other man head back to the police cruiser. It made him more happy than he wanted to consider that he was going to be able to stay with the other man. He didn't dare look too closely at his feelings. Just because Crow Horse was inviting him – well, insisting on it, really – to stay with him, it didn't mean there was anything else going on.

"Yeah, I know," Ray muttered to the dog, as he put the car in gear and began driving after Crow Horse's cruiser.

* * *

Jimmy was quick to make himself at home as soon as Crow Horse led Ray and the dog into his house. Ray paused in the hallway, looking around. "This is a nice house."

"For who I am?" Crow Horse glanced at him.

Ray shrugged. "It's just nice." He glanced ahead of him at the open door that led to the living room. "Want me to set my things up in there?"

"Nah. I've got a guest room. Up the stairs, along the end. You can bunk there." Crow Horse turned to grin at him. "I guess we'll be working together from now on."

"Good job we had a lot of practice at that." Ray carried his bags up the stairs, heading to the room indicating and placing his bags on the floor. He then stood up, glancing around the room. It was nice; but there was something he was missing. Or _someone_.

Ray walked out of the room and back down the stairs, heading to the kitchen where Crow Horse was mixing drinks. "So is that some kind of herbal drink?" he asked, standing in the doorway.

"Just coffee." Crow Horse handed him one of the mugs. "So. This mean I'm your new boss?" He smirked.

"I hope not."

"You're one of us now. Had a vision and everything. You can't be bothered by the idea of me being in charge of you."

"I'm not bothered by you being in charge of me." Ray paused, wondering if his words could be taken the wrong way. Just because _he_ felt a certain way about the other man, it didn't mean Crow Horse felt the same about him. But he was through hiding and denying any part of himself now. "I assume there are rules in place about getting involved with your boss."

Crow Horse set his mug down and turned fully to face Ray. "Are you talking about romantically? Dinner, flowers, the works? Or a quick fuck?"

Ray winced at the somewhat crude descriptive word. "I'm not looking for a quick fuck and then it'll be over."

Crow Horse was silent for a few seconds, then, "Is that why you came back here?"

"Only part of the reason," Ray answered. "Truth? I've never felt more at home than when I was here. I knew I had to come back. No matter what might happen between us." He couldn't keep the note of hope out of his voice. Crow Horse hadn't lost his temper and he hadn't told him to leave. That had to be a good sign. He cleared his throat. "You know, it doesn't matter if you don't feel the same. It doesn't…"

Whatever else Ray had been about to say was lost as Crow Horse closed the distance between them, kissing him hard with one hand gripping the back of his head. It took a moment, but Ray returned the kiss, pressing closer to Crow Horse.

Pulling back, Crow Horse looked into his eyes, though kept his hand in place on the back of Ray's head. "Don't be stupid."

Ray grinned. "You were hoping I'd come back."

"I told you. You've got a place here. You're one of us." Crow Horse shook his head, smiling. "Grandfather saw it before I did. Told me I needed to give you the freedom to choose. Watching you drive away? Was the hardest thing I've ever done."

"I wish you'd told me before I left." But Grandfather was wiser than Ray had given him credit for. If Crow Horse had told him how he felt before, Ray probably would have either stayed; or run; or…

"You're over-thinking it." Crow Horse kissed him again, harder this time.

By the time the kiss ended, Ray was unsteady on his feet and his lips felt swollen, his cheeks flushed. "That was worth waiting for," he whispered. But there was a note of hesitation in his voice. He remembered when he'd felt so lost emotionally, he'd pulled his gun on Crow Horse. Hell, their first meeting had been with him tackling the other man to the ground and cuffing him. And after that, he'd been nothing but antagonistic. Until he'd realised more was going on that it had seemed.

"Where's your mind at, Hoss?"

"I'm sorry." Ray's voice was quiet and guilt-filled.

"I don't dwell in the past. The conflicts between us don't exist now." Crow Horse shrugged. "Grandfather was right about you. And you're in my life. I'm in yours. Nothing else matters."

"It matters to me."

Crow Horse studied his face and seemed to come to a decision. Grasping Ray's shoulders, he moved him towards the counter and stepped behind, pushing down on his back.

Ray's cheeks flushed as he allowed himself to be bent over the counter. Crow Horse's hand rested on his back, pushing him down, while the other hand smacked down hard on his backside.

The jeans Ray was wearing didn't offer much protection and he hissed out a breath as Crow Horse's hand slapped down a second and a third time. The smacks continued to land in random places all over Ray's bottom, making it impossible to predict where his hand would land next.

Ray breathed in deep, his bottom beginning to heat up under the hard, firm smacks. He forced himself to keep still, breathing deep as his entire world shrank to the feel of Crow Horse's hand smacking his bottom and the dull sound of the slaps.

Crow Horse stopped the spanking and Ray let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. The other man's hand was still braced on his back, so he knew the spanking wasn't over… but he couldn't help but flinch as he felt Crow Horse's hand slide under him to unfasten his jeans. "Wait…"

"There are no secrets between us, Hoss. No need for modesty."

Ray bit his lip as he felt his jeans and underpants tugged down to expose his bare backside, which he was certain had to have pink handprints all over it already. He bit back a yelp as Crow Horse's hard, callused hand slapped down on his bared backside. The sting was much sharper without the protection of his pants.

The smacks rained down harder and faster now. Ray grunted and groaned, feeling tears in his eyes from the repetitive pain. "I'm sorry…"

"It's not about being sorry. I don't want an apology."

Ray stamped his foot as Crow Horse's hand fell harder and faster, beginning to focus more on his sit spots and thighs. The tender spots burned more and his voice sounded strained when he yelled out, "Then what do you want?"

"For you to forgive yourself as freely as I have forgiven you."

Ray wasn't sure he could do that. Richard and Maggie wouldn't have died if he'd been better at his job. If he'd worked _with_ Crow Horse instead of against him at every turn. If he'd just gone to Red Deer Table when Grandfather had told him to… "I won't work against you again!" His voice hitched.

"I know you won't. Because if you do? You'll wind up right back here."

Ray wasn't sure if he should be upset at the promise or not. Tears were blurring his eyes and running down his cheeks. He let out a quiet little sob as he felt a heavy weight in his chest begin to lift. The spanking hurt, but he was safe. He was _home_. And that sense of relief was so strong, it overwhelmed every other emotion.

The spanking came to a stop and Ray felt Crow Horse's hand release him. He stood up slowly, reaching back to rub his burning bottom before he quickly pulled his underpants and jeans into place, then turned back round. "I…"

"If you apologise again, I'm going to bend you right back over." Crow Horse's hands went to his belt, making his meaning clear.

Ray shook his head and stumbled forward so he could press his lips against Crow Horse's. "I'm glad you feel the same way," he whispered against the other man's lips.

 **The End**


	11. Family Is Everything (Fast and Furious)

**Family Is Everything**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from the Fast and Furious franchise and I'm not making any money from this fic

 **Summary:** Set during the sixth movie. Brian suffers from a tremendous amount of guilt about his part in what happened to Letty. Dom steps in

 **Pairing:** Dom/Brian – established relationship

 **Warning(s):** Spanking; spoilers for the Fast and Furious franchise up to and including Fast and Furious 6; mentions of violence; sexual scenes between two men

 **Author's Note:** Not actually part of my Dom/Brian series – it's a standalone story in a separate 'verse. And part of the Twenty Fics series.

* * *

Brian had passed on the information he'd got from Braga, but he hadn't stuck around long for the actual planning itself. He knew he was going to need to catch up with Dom and the others, but the sense of his guilt was so strong, he didn't feel able to be around any of the others; and especially not his lover, considering his responsibility for what had happened to Letty in the first place.

Making an excuse that he needed to check in with some people he knew, Brian was quick to leave the group and retire to his room… well, his and Dom's. He could feel the other man's eyes on him as he left the room, but Dom didn't say anything; and Brian was thankful for that.

The talking seemed to go on for a while. Brian _did_ take the opportunity to check in with some of his contacts, but it didn't take nearly as long as he'd allowed the group to believe. And when he was finished, he couldn't bring himself to return to the group. Instead, he stretched out on the bed, closed his eyes and tried to sleep, knowing being rested and as emotionally prepared for the next day as possible was important.

It didn't work.

Brian was still laying there with his eyes closed when he heard the door open and the sounds of Dom moving around, getting ready for bed. He knew every movement the other man made; not that Dom was predictable, but by now, Brian knew him enough to know every movement Toretto made.

The bed sank slightly as Dom sat down on the edge. A moment later, Brian felt him stretch out next to him.

"I know you're awake."

"What's the plan?" Brian didn't bother trying to deny it; trying to deny how well Dom knew him. He wanted to roll into the other man's embrace and hold on tight, but the mixture of different emotions he felt – most of them bad – prevented him.

"Now? Get some sleep. Tomorrow, I'm going to find her. I know where she'll be."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"Why would I want that?"

"What happened to Letty was… my fault." Brian meant to sound like he was taking responsibility for his actions. Instead, his voice cracked like he was a teenager.

The light that flooded the room pierced through Brian's eyelids and he winced before forcing his eyes open, looking at Dom. The other man's face was serious, but he held eye contact with Brian. "I thought we'd already dealt with this."

"That was… before I realised exactly what happened to Letty. I know she's important to you. I was just the double-crossing cop who took far too long to make the right choice."

"Hey, you're _my_ cop." Dom shifted forward, pressing a hard kiss to Brian's lips. Pulling away, he added, "And Letty _is_ important to me. But so is the rest of my family. So are you. And I need you with me."

"I'm with you," Brian replied immediately. "You know that."

"Your heart's not in it," Dom said.

Brian had to look away, even though he felt like there was an invisible tether holding his eyes to Dom's. "I'll get over it."

Dom reached out and grasped Brian's shoulder. "You mean like you are right now?"

"You were right. Letty's the priority. _She's_ who we have to focus on." Brian's voice came out tighter than he'd expected.

Dom frowned, but his grip on Brian's shoulder tightened, to the point it was almost painful. "Of course she is. And so are you. You don't need me to tell you that."

As good as the words made him feel, Brian felt even worse that he couldn't just accept Dom's feelings for him. When Dom had first found out Brian and Letty had been in contact, he'd gone after Brian hard; and he knew he'd deserved it. In many ways, he wished Dom would hit him… _hurt_ him.

And he was conflicted about Letty. It wasn't that he was jealous. Yes, Letty was special to Dom. She always would be. She was important to Brian, too. But he was secure in his place in Dom's life. He knew he was loved… cared about… how _important_ he was to the older man. And yet…

A grim look came over Dom's face and before Brian could ask what was wrong, his lover reached out and gripped his shoulder. Brian could feel the pressure of fingers on his shoulder blade and then he was pulled forward. He went without arguing or voicing a protest and found himself up-ended over his lover's lap, face pressed into the bedsheets.

The sharp sound of skin hitting skin made Brian jump. He was bare-arse naked over Dom's lap; but as he was comfortable sleeping without clothes, it didn't bother him. He did find it almost impossible to gather his thoughts as Dom's hand beat out a steady rhythm on his backside. There was no set pattern to the swats.

Brian did his best to stay still and accept the punishment Dom was dishing out. He'd had worse pain. He'd even experienced worse at his lover's hands, on one of the only occasions Dom getting physical with him had been with his fists.

But it was hard to force his body to stay still, especially when, even with the random patterns of swats, Dom's hand began covering areas of Brian's backside that had already had attention.

By the time Dom's hand came to a stop, Brian had tears in his eyes, though none had fallen. He tried to catch his breath, aware it wasn't over.

"Do you understand why I'm spanking you?" Dom asked.

Brian took a deep breath, the wheels turning in his mind. _Why_ was Dom spanking him? It couldn't be for the obvious; Dom wouldn't be asking him if the spanking was because of Letty. But he honestly didn't know what answer his lover was looking for. Letty was _all_ he could think about. "I sent her to Braga." His voice caught. " _I'm_ responsible… for what happened to her."

"I'm not punishing you because of Letty, Brian." Dom's voice was quiet, but still clear. "I know you didn't intend what happened. _I know_ you would do anything to change what happened."

Brian nodded frantically. "Yes!" he forced out. "I… I want… _more than anything_ …"

A hard smack landed, strong enough to take Brian's breath away. He couldn't hold back a gasp as a new series of swats began. Whether they _were_ harder or not, they definitely _felt_ like Dom was putting more force behind them.

By the time Dom paused, his hand resting on Brian's bottom, Brian was struggling to hold back the tears. "I don't want you talking like that." Dom's voice was low, but very serious. "I'm not spanking you to punish you, whether for Letty or because you feel like you deserve to be punished."

"Then why…?" Brian couldn't hide his confusion.

"I don't want your guilt to be the cause of you doing something stupid." Dom resumed the spanking, punctuating every word with a slap as he continued, "I'm not going to risk losing you because you can't deal with what happened. We'll get Letty back, but it will be _together_."

"I wasn't…" Brian swallowed, unable to finish his sentence, And it wasn't just because Dom was spanking him, even though that was painful enough. He knew Dom was right. It wasn't even the first time Dom had brought up his reckless behaviour. "I… know." He blinked frantically, trying to force back the tears.

Dom's hand began smacking harder and faster, focusing more on Brian's thighs and his sit spots. Brian whimpered and finally threw his hand back, wanting to at least pause the spanking if not outright stop it. "I get it! I won't do anything stupid because I feel guilty!"

"Good." Dom moved Brian's hand out of the way and he felt it pinned against his back, leaving him helpless to stop the spanking. "It wasn't your fault. And you don't need to close yourself off. I don't blame you for what happened. _No one_ blames you."

" _You did_." Brian's voice shook as he remembered the moment Dom had found out what he'd done. The tears ran down his cheeks, close to blinding him.

"Only until I was thinking clearly," Dom replied. "It _wasn't_ your fault. I love you, Brian. You don't need to feel guilty. Or responsible. And nothing has changed between us. Letty's alive. We'll bring her back and we can all be a family again. Build a life together. If that's what you want."

"Yes." Brian could hear the tears in his own voice, but he couldn't stop crying. He slumped limp over his lover's knees and let himself cry quietly.

The spanking came to a stop and Brian felt himself shifted from Dom's lap, settled on the bed next to his lover. He wrapped his arms around Dom and felt himself pulled close, until he was almost on Dom's lap. He took a deep breath and let his head rest on Dom's shoulder, sniffling once as his tears began to slow. "Do we need to have an early night?"

"I think we can stay up for a bit." Dom brought Brian's face closer to his, pressing their lips together in a hard kiss. "But I think I might be over-dressed."

"Maybe just a bit," Brian agreed. "Let me help with that."

 **The End**


	12. Still Here, Chief (Frequency)

**Still Here, Chief**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from the movie Frequency and I'm not making any money from this fic

 **Summary:** In the present day, Frank has some things to 'say' to his son

 **Warning(s):** Spanking (severe); spoilers for the whole movie; some mentions of violence

* * *

The whole situation was a strange one. Frank knew it had to be so much stranger for Johnny, though. After all, Frank had had years to come to terms with talking to his adult son in the future. Johnny had only had the space of a few days.

Frank was certain Jules believed him, even though they'd never sat down and talked about what Satch had said to her. He'd caught her looking at the ham radio with a mixture of wonder and fear on more than one occasion; and she'd never asked him about his friend John since then.

The police hadn't asked many questions; helped by the fact it had been Satch first on the scene. Frank and him hadn't talked about Johnny either, though Satch had got a strange expression on his face the older John got… like he _wanted_ to ask, but couldn't bring himself to.

It was all quiet now. Jules had gone to bed, safe in her ignorance of the shifting in timelines; safe from the knowledge that, in one of those timelines, she'd fallen victim to a serial killer. And the Nightingale was dead, too… Frank's family was no longer in danger. He could stop worrying about their safety; stop lying awake every night, expecting the killer to resurface, no matter how much police protection had been placed around their home. After all, how could they protect Frank's family against one of their own?

"You and Mom didn't have to stay here tonight, Dad." John stepped into the living room, standing framed in the doorway. "I know… how much you must have been on edge, waiting for this day. But he's gone now. He can't hurt me or Mom… he can't hurt anyone else ever again."

Frank didn't respond directly to his son's comment, but patted the seat next to him. "Come sit down, Chief."

Some of the tension seemed to seep out of John's shoulders at the familiar nickname. He sighed wearily and sank down next to Frank. "I'm glad this is all over."

" _You're_ glad?" Chuckling, Frank bumped shoulders with his son, though his voice turned more serious as he continued, "Every day, I've wondered if things were going to change. I tried calling you on the radio, even though I knew it wouldn't work. We _both_ know how easy it would be for a random action to change the past. I never stopped wondering if he was going to come back."

"I'm glad it happened," John said. "I mean, it was awful we lost Mom for a while, but at least it all turned out okay in the end." He hesitated. "I'm relieved to know she'll never be aware of what happened." He glanced sideways at Frank as he added, "I guess you must wish you don't remember."

"And lose what we had?" Frank shook his head. "I don't know all the science behind how and why it happened, but I'm grateful for it. Things were dicey for a while, but we pulled through. And now we have our own story to tell my grandkids."

"Yeah…" A look of wonder came over John's face. "I have a son. You have a grandson." He shook his head. "No one else is going to believe this."

"I need to ask you something, Chief." Frank knew his son heard the serious note in his voice, because John immediately looked at him, holding eye contact. Frank took only a moment to consider whether it was the right time to do this or not. All he had to do was remember the Nightingale about to stab his son. "Why did the son of a bitch come after you now?"

John hesitated. "I haven't had a chance to sort through the new memories yet. Maybe something caused him to come back."

"Maybe, but I could hear you fighting him," Frank said. " _Before_ I shot off his hand in the past. What made him come after you _now_?" He waited a beat and, when his son didn't say anything, asked, "Did you get cocky and make yourself a target?"

John's head dropped and he stared at his lap. "I didn't think it would matter. I taunted him. Told him I knew who he was, but…" His voice faltered.

"But that it wouldn't matter, because he already went down. Just didn't know it yet," Frank finished.

"Yeah."

"Do I need to tell you what's about to happen? Are your memories still confused, or do you know how I started dealing with your reckless behaviour?"

John closed his eyes, not voicing a response. He stood from the sofa and, as soon as Frank stood as well, he started to bend forward over the arm. But then he stopped, glancing at his father.

"Leave them on for now." Frank's hand went to his belt. He unfastened the buckle as John bent over the sofa's arm, shuffling forward until his upper body was supported on the cushions and his backside was the highest point of his body.

Frank rested his hand on the jean-clad backside, giving a few firm pats and feeling his son shift beneath his hand. "I'm glad it's over, Chief. But you shouldn't have made yourself a target." He lifted his hand and doubled the belt over, palming the buckle. Resting his other hand on John's lower back, he raised the belt and let it land with a crack that would have startled Jules awake… if she hadn't grown used to the father-son talks.

Frank didn't pause much between the strokes. While he wasn't overly harsh, he quickly fell into a pattern of stripes; leaving just enough time for his son to gasp quietly after each strike.

Frank never kept count of how many strikes he gave with the belt. He didn't make John count, either. But by the time he paused, John's feet were shifting and he was breathing heavily.

The jeans were loose enough that Frank pulled them down without needing to unfasten them. He yanked them down to just below John's knees, revealing his white boxers through which Frank could see his bottom was flushed pink.

It was during the next round of stripes that Frank talked, the belt landing to punctuate every other word. "I know how scared and upset you were. You felt like you were on your own and it made you reckless. But you shouldn't have told him you knew. _We had a plan_. I was never going to let you down, Chief. You know that." He moved the belt lower, so it was landing across John's unprotected thighs. It wasn't as hard, but John gripped tight and a soft whimpering sound escaped him. He jerked his feet, but they stayed planted on the floor.

Frank landed two full rounds of the belt and then paused to tug John's boxers down to join his jeans. "You were lucky, Chief. Very lucky the radio was still working. Very lucky I could drive him off and be here to save you." He hesitated, as he was able to tell, by John's hard breaths, how close to tears his son was. But he couldn't let John think it was okay to put himself in danger, no matter _who_ he was protecting. Still, Frank couldn't bring himself to use as much force as he had been; though John's bottom looked red enough he thought his son wouldn't notice.

By the time Frank called a halt to the thrashing, John's entire backside was a uniform red from the crest down to mid thigh. He replaced his belt around his waist as John's shoulders heaved and he hiccoughed, trying to stop crying.

Frank rubbed John's back gently, letting his son calm in his own time. "I'm here, Chief," he murmured. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

It took several minutes for John's tears to die down, but he relaxed under Frank's hand and, eventually, he stopped shaking and pushed himself up.

Frank stepped back, allowing his son time to replace his clothes and wipe the tears from his face. Then, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms tight around John once more, relieved they hadn't been lost to each other. "I love you, Chief."

John relaxed visibly and wrapped his own arms tight around Frank. "I love you too, Dad," he whispered.

 **The End**


	13. Discussing Sensibilities (Person of Inte

**Discussing Sensibilities**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from the television series Person of Interest and I'm not making any money from this fic

 **Summary:** Follows the episode S1-21, Many Happy Returns. Reese really wants to make a point to Finch and decides to discipline him at the loft.

 **Warning(s):** Spanking; spoilers for the whole of season one of Person of Interest; mentions of violence and triggering material, such as domestic abuse

 **Author's Note:** An answer to a prompt from SpankedbySpike on Livejournal. I'm changing the location of the final conversation between Reese and Finch in this episode

* * *

"I hope you understand now why I felt I had to keep this from you."

Reese had met Finch back at the loft. He might be irritated with the other man right now, but they were still partners; allies. And Finch was the closest Reese had to a true friend, even though both Lionel and Carter had become important to him as well. "I hope you now realise why you should have told me."

Finch didn't say anything, instead limping over to the wall with pictures and notes taped to it. "We really don't have anything left for today. And that's the truth."

"You lied to me once already, Finch. How am I supposed to trust anything you say now?"

"I know what happened to Jessica. I was worried about how this would affect you."

"That's not your job."

"As your partner, if I have concerns, I need to do something about those concerns."

"You told Carter to look into me."

"I didn't tell her to look into you, Mr. Reese," Finch corrected. "She was already in that position. I merely suggested she use the opportunity to control what kind of evidence passed into the wrong hands."

"You were interfering in my personal life and business," Reese said quietly. "Unless my number comes up, you should know my own history does not affect my work."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"I think I need to make sure." Reese's voice was a soft murmur, but now that the seed of the idea had been planted in his mind, he couldn't get rid of it. He stood and walked over to Finch with quick, purposeful strides.

"Mr. Reese, I respect I have upset you and perhaps caused irreparable damage to the trust between us, but I'm at a loss as to how I can make it right."

Reese stopped only a short distance in front of Finch. He found social niceties far beyond him now; but even an individual like himself, who was capable of doing the bad things so the innocents of the world didn't have to dirty their hands, needed allies… people he could trust not to screw him over. And there was only one way Reese could think of to put things right; at least one that didn't either end with Finch in the hospital or Reese walking away from one of the only things that now gave his life meaning.

Reese reached out and grasped Finch's shoulder.

"Mr. Reese, I'm sure I don't have to remind you our working relationship is not one where it is appropriate for either of us to get physical with each other." Finch took a step back.

Reese followed the movement, grasping Finch's shoulder once more. "I want to make sure you understand why you shouldn't have kept this from me. I want to make sure this doesn't happen again."

"And how do you propose we rectify this, Mr. Reese?"

Reese smiled, but it wasn't because he found the situation amusing. It was meant to be reassuring, but he'd forgotten how to be that too. "By using a bit of negative reinforcement."

Finch frowned. "Studies show that positive reinforcement has a much better effect on children."

"I agree, but you aren't a child, Finch. And unless you want to continue our working relationship with broken trust between us, something needs to happen."

Finch looked at him, but didn't voice any further arguments. "What do you plan to do?" he asked instead.

"I'm going to use corporal punishment. I'm going to spank you."

"Mr. Reese…" Finch paused, as if at a loss about how to proceed. "We have already established I'm not a child. I fail to see how this method of discipline could have any effect on what you consider to be broken trust."

"Humour me." If Finch wasn't affected by what was between them, Reese knew he couldn't have talked the other man into this. Spanking was personal; the kind of punishment used on a friend… lover, perhaps… not a person you worked with.

Finch looked down at Reese's hand, still clasping his shoulder, but didn't put voice to what was going through his mind. All he said was, "What do you want me to do?"

Reese began walking over to the couch. His hold on Finch's shoulder meant the other man followed him.

It took only a moment to decide to make it completely personal. Reese sat down and guided Finch round to his side. He didn't force the other man into position, instead sitting back far enough that he had the support behind him. "If you stretch out over my lap, the rest of your body supported by the couch, it won't put any weight on your leg."

"I wouldn't have thought my comfort was important at this time." Finch eyed Reese's lap, but limped forward and settled himself over Reese's knees, shifting his legs up onto the couch and resting his upper body on the other side.

Reese thought about tugging Finch's pants and underwear down, but this would be personal enough even without that. He brought hand down in the first smack. It echoed dully in the room, but Finch didn't flinch or make a sound.

After covering Finch's entire backside, from the crest down to mid-thigh, twice over, Reese paused. It didn't seem to be having much of an effect on Reese, but his palm was beginning to sting.

Maybe he was going about this the wrong way. Reese didn't want to jump to using an implement. Like him, he suspected an increase in pain would only cause a stronger attempt to stoically take the punishment.

Reese shifted Finch, enough to slide his hand under the other man's stomach and begin unfastening his pants.

Finch braced his hands on the couch and began to push himself up. "Mr. Reese, this was not part of our agreement."

"We didn't make an official agreement, Harold." Reese deliberately used his first name; or at least the first name he knew. "I pointed out broken trust was something you should be punished for. I told you I was going to spank you, but you didn't ask for any other details." He took advantage of Finch's raised body to finish unfastening his pants and pulled them down, along with his underwear.

Finch let out a tiny huff of air and lowered himself back down carefully. "I investigated you thoroughly before I approached you, Mr. Reese. This doesn't fit any of your known patterns of behaviour."

"Patterns don't tell you everything, Finch." Reese raised his hand once more, bringing it down in a sharper, crisper smack. "You didn't have a chance to observe me with people I care about." Another smack. "Someone I consider a friend." He stopped talking, long enough to deliver a circuit of smacks that had his own palm stinging. "Out of all the people in my life right now, you are the one I trust the most."

Finch had stayed still over his lap the entire time Reese had been spanking, but at the final words, his whole body went rigid. "I haven't let you into my life."

Reese looked down at Finch's bottom, a light pink all over with a few spots that stood out a shade darker. "Why do you think I've been trying to learn about you?" He let his hand fall in a harder smack; one loud enough that he was glad the walls were soundproof.

Finch winced, his voice strained when he spoke. "I'm sure you must know, human motives escape me. But I always assumed it was the same as my reason. Because you can't stand _not_ knowing."

"No." Reese looked at the back of Finch's head. "It might have started out like that… almost a game to see how much I could learn about you when you were so clearly reluctant to let me get a foot in the door. But it's different now. I want to learn about you because I want to be your _friend_ ; not just work partners, even though what we do is important."

Finch went still, but when he spoke, his voice carried traces of an emotion Reese found it hard to decipher. "I've only been friends with one person before."

"Well." Reese paused, figuring out how to respond to that. "You have another friend now. That's why I need to be able to trust you. And if you hide information from me, even if you're trying to protect me, it means I can't. I don't need to know everything about your past to trust and be friends with you."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Good." Reese lifted his hand once more and resumed the spanking. He was swatting a fraction harder and faster and felt Finch begin to shift over his lap; the only evidence he had that the other man was affected by the punishment.

It wasn't working. Reese stopped again, his hand resting on Finch's back, just above the red now marring the other man's bottom. If this was going to be anything other than an awkward moment between them later, he needed to break into Finch's emotions.

"What are you trying to accomplish, Mr. Reese?"

"What am I trying to accomplish?" Reese repeated. "I don't have any ulterior motives here."

"You want me to change my behaviour."

"That's not what this is about. You and I both know, in any other case, you wouldn't have hesitated to call me in. Instead, all you had was _Lionel_."

"Lionel is your asset."

"He's a crooked cop with a kid. He doesn't have my training. Or your intelligence. If something had gone wrong, he couldn't have protected himself, let alone you."

"You're concerned about me."

Reese was fairly certain he wasn't imagining the note of disbelief in Finch's voice. "I'm _worried_ about you," he corrected. "Even if there wasn't an issue with trust, you could have got yourself hurt. You were lucky I realised something was wrong."

Finch was quiet for a second or two. Then, "Perhaps you are correct I do deserve this." He visibly relaxed over Reese's knee, putting more of his weight across his lap.

Realising that Finch was now no longer fighting him, Reese adjusted the other man's position enough to expose his sit spots. "I'm going to give you twenty hard swats to finish," he warned. "Because I take the fact you endangered yourself more seriously than the broken trust."

"Understood." As Reese lifted his hand, Finch added, "But you still have my apologies for keeping the information from you."

"Thank you." Reese brought his hand down firmly on each of Finch's sit spots.

Finch stiffened and a hoarse gasp escaped him. While his legs held still as Reese continued giving out the harder smacks, his body jerked, shifting from side to side.

Reese paused just before the final two smacks. He planned to make those smacks the hardest yet, but before he did, he spoke quietly. "I'm not going to say this is a one-time thing. I hope we won't have to repeat this, but I am prepared to if it's necessary." His hand cracked down hard once and then a second time.

Finch took a deep breath and then pushed himself up off Reese's lap. He looked away as he replaced his clothing.

Standing, Reese placed his hand on Finch's shoulder and squeezed gently. "I'm glad you are safe and I would prefer it if we don't have this conversation again."

Finch made eye contact with him, his face flushed red and his glasses slightly askew. "I completely agree, Mr. Reese."

 **The End**


	14. Another Life (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

**Another Life**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from the television series Buffy the Vampire Slayer and I'm not making any money from this fic

 **Summary:** In the parallel world, Vampire!Xander is given his soul back, which triggers an overwhelming surge of guilt and self-loathing

 **Warning(s):** Minor spoilers up until the end of season three of Buffy the Vampire Slayer; major spoilers for episode nine 'The Wish' and episode sixteen 'Doppelgangland'; spanking; violence; AU; triggering material (suicide/self-harm); references to torture

 **Author's Note:** My fantasy book, Ice Warriors: Key of Midgard is available to buy in Kindle and paperback format on Amazon retailers. If you've enjoyed reading my work, please help support me by purchasing a copy and/or promoting it. The book doesn't contain spanking, but it does make use of my long-time love of mythology

* * *

It hit him like a punch to the gut as he jumped off the platform, stake in hand. The pain sliced through him and he landed heavily on his hands and knees amidst the violence. Vampires and humans were dying. Screams and groans of pain filled his ears as disorientation hit him.

When it was gone, the guilt hit him just as hard. He was on his knees and the stake was still in his hand. There was the taste of blood in his mouth. His own, or the memory of others'? It didn't matter. He was a monster. The best he could do was take away the monster.

Xander turned the stake around and drove it towards his heart.

It was knocked out of his hand and sent skittering across the floor.

Xander's eyes followed the path of the stake and then looked up at the vampire who towered over him. "Why did you stop me?"

Angel bent and offered his hand, even while his eyes moved round the battle ranging around them. "You have your soul back."

"That's what this is. I don't want it."

"You know what you've become. I experienced the same thing. I wish I could tell you it gets easier." Angel pulled him to his feet. "Stay here. Don't do anything stupid."

"Define 'stupid'," Xander muttered, watching as Angel turned back to the battle. There was a blonde with a scar on her lip. A human. She was taking out vampires…his kind…with no trouble at all. Was she the Slayer? Should he attack her? What was Angel going to do to him?

Xander's eyes were drawn to the stake still on the floor. He started towards it, aching inside and just wanting an end to the pain and scooped it up. But then his eyes were drawn to two of the white-hats. And Willow.

"Will…!" He started towards her, only to halt when she was impaled on part of the wooden cage the humans had been kept in. "Whose stupid idea was it to put them in a _wooden_ cage?" he muttered.

The Master approached, lip curling as he looked at Xander. "I can smell the stench of your soul. You're useless to me now," he growled.

The smell of blood permeated the air. Xander's face morphed as hunger filled him and he was quick to move back, looking at the stake in his hand and then at the Master's back. Dust covered the floor, coating bodies of humans. They were all dead…vampire and human alike. All dead because the Master rose. Willow was dead because of him. Xander was a monster.

The Master and the Slayer were advancing on each other. Xander watched him throw Angel to one side and then exchange blows with the Slayer before he finally got her in a headlock.

There was no time to think. Xander acted. He lunged forward and staked the Master, the wooden point going through his back and piercing his heart. He exploded into dust.

Xander stood back, the stake falling from his hand. As near as he could tell, he and Angel were the only two vampires standing. Everyone else was dust. And there were humans milling around, dazed and confused looks on their faces.

The Slayer moved so she could see both Xander and Angel. "There are two of you?"

"The threat of the Master is over." Angel stepped over to Xander, moving almost protectively in front of him. "But there are other demons. Other threats. You don't have to stay."

"She's not gonna kill us?" Xander muttered.

The Slayer frowned. "I don't trust you."

"Is she talking to me or you?" Xander asked.

"Perhaps you should let me do the talking," Angel suggested.

"Yeah, good idea. But is she gonna stake me? I tried to do it myself but you wouldn't let me. I figure the Slayer can get the job done. I'd ask you to take this soul back out of me, but then I'd just kill again. And that makes me sick to my stomach. Hey, can I even _be_ sick?" Realising both Angel and the Slayer were staring at him, he shrugged. "Okay, so I babble when I'm nervous."

"Oh, I wish I could stake you and shut you up," the Slayer muttered.

"So why don't you?" Xander looked at the rest of the humans over Angel's shoulders. "I won't survive long here."

"He's not a threat to you or any human," Angel said. "Neither am I. Leave him in my hands. I'll look after him. He won't bother you again."

"No. You'll just go after some other hapless human," the Slayer retorted. "You're going to need to feed. Both of you." She bent and picked up the stake. "I can't let you walk out of here, knowing how many people might die at your hands."

"I haven't fed on a human in a long time," Angel said softly.

"Hey, I'm all for you staking me and giving me a clean, quick death." Xander remembered how he'd tortured Angel…him and Willow. He was certain the other vampire would repay him with interest, soul or no soul.

"And I'm supposed to believe that?" the Slayer retorted.

"I fought alongside you. We're comrades," Angel said. "Give us the chance to live and I'll prove you're right to put your trust in us. I promise."

"I don't trust people, let alone vampires." The Slayer sighed and shook her head. "I'm going to regret this, but I'd better go tell Jeeves the Master is…you know…dust." She turned away.

"Come on, let's go," Angel muttered.

"Really? Isn't she going dust us?"

Angel didn't answer, instead gripping Xander's shirt and dragging him towards the exit, past all the humans who seemed to just be coming back to themselves.

* * *

Xander wasn't sure who had lived in the house Angel took him to, but his fellow vampire had found an empty building for them to hide out in while it was daylight. Xander sat and watched as Angel closed the curtains and then began to change out of his clothes.

The sight of the burn scars on Angel's chest would have made Xander throw up, if that was possible. He looked away and glanced at the covered window in the living room. "You think anyone's gonna come after us? We're the only vampires left here in Sunnydale…."

"It's unlikely," Angel replied. "There are a lot of humans dead. Rebuilding is going to be more important than coming after two vampires who are no longer a threat."

Xander let his eyes move back to Angel, relaxing when he saw the vampire's shirt was back on. "What are you going to do to me?"

"I know what it's like to come back to yourself and realise the evil you did under the demon's control," Angel replied. "I had a long time to come to terms with my monstrous actions. It's not going to be easy, but you can work to make up for the evil you did. The Master isn't the only threat out there and there are more people who are going to be in danger. Innocent people who need saving."

"Because people are going to trust me," Xander muttered.

"It's not going to be easy," Angel said. "There are going to be times the guilt is crippling. There might be times you close your eyes and see the people you've killed…."

"And those I hurt," Xander interrupted, his eyes drawn to Angel's now-covered chest.

"The demon in you was responsible for that."

Xander swallowed, wishing that Angel hadn't chosen to save him. He glanced away again. "Feels like it was me."

"I'm not worried about you having hurt me."

" _I_ am."

"Okay," Angel said. "I'm not going to tell you to stop feeling guilty. I don't know enough about this curse, enough about what's been done to both of us, to say how easy it might be to lose it again. Other vampires can sense it. My…own sire could."

"And the Master could smell it," Xander added, eager to please.

Angel nodded. "Older vampires will be able to sense it. Younger vampires, perhaps not." Glancing around the room, he added, "I assume you're aware feeding on humans is no longer an option. When night falls, I'll see what I can do about getting us blood. But if you're hungry now…."

Xander shook his head. "I don't think I can stomach it."

"Starving yourself isn't the answer."

"Maybe it'll solve the problem," Xander commented morosely. "I'll starve to death and it'll remove one of the baddest…bad-asses around." He raised his head as he felt eyes on him, meeting Angel's gaze. "What?"

"I didn't save you only for you to give in to your guilt and pain." Looking around, Angel seemed to come to a decision. He sat down on the sofa and held his hand out. "Come here."

"Why?"

"Things are going to be simpler if you don't ask 'why' and just do," Angel replied. "I'm not going to let your guilt cause you to do something stupid, so come here."

He didn't know how Angel planned to stop him feeling so guilty, but even though his feet dragged, Xander made his way over to the vampire's side. When Angel reached out to grasp his wrist, his whole body went tense. And then Angel was pulling him forward across his lap. Xander's hands shot out to catch his balance, but he was ashamed of the tiny squeak that escaped as he found himself across Angel's knees.

"Do you need me to explain what I'm about to do?"

"No. I think I got that well enough," Xander whispered, but couldn't help adding, "Though I don't see how a spanking is going to help. Can't even touch on burning you with matches."

"This isn't about paying you back for what you did to me or anyone else. It's about stepping in and letting you relieve even a tiny amount of the pain. Being tortured did a little bit to relieve some of the guilt tormenting me…."

"Then why aren't you torturing me?" Xander held himself tense as his pants were tugged down. They were tight enough that Angel had to work to get them off his backside and down his legs and he closed his eyes as he felt cool air drift over his bare skin.

"Because you don't deserve it."

The crack of Angel's hand on the bare skin of his ass made Xander jump. He was barely given a chance to fully absorb the pain of that smack before a second one landed, nearly on top of the first.

A whine grew deep in Xander's throat as Angel spanked him hard, working over the entire skin of his bottom, from the very crest down to mid-thigh. When the vampire's hand landed on the more sensitive spots on his sit spots and thighs, Xander's legs jerked, but he forced himself not to kick. After all, he deserved so much more than this.

When the spanking got to the point Xander didn't think he'd be able to take any more without crying out, Angel began speaking, his tone almost conversational as his palm continued to bounce off Xander's bottom, heating it to an uncomfortable level. "How were you turned?"

"W-what…?" Xander frowned, struggling to think around the smacks that were landing unerringly on his backside. "You want to have a conversation _now_?"

"Did you ask for it?"

Tears filled Xander's eyes. Tears that had nothing to do with the pain from the spanking. "Willow. She…she was turned first. By the Master, when he rose." Guilt settled as a heavy weight in his stomach. "She always liked me. I…."

"Being turned into a vampire doesn't just bring out the worst in you," Angel said. "It makes you into the worst fiend you could possibly be, twisting everything that you once loved into darkness and pain. If Willow loved you before she was turned, that love became an obsession. She wanted you with her."

"So she changed me into a monster."

"She wasn't _your_ Willow anymore," Angel replied.

Xander swallowed back the sob that wanted to rip from his throat, knowing that once he started, he'd break down completely. "Why me?"

Angel was silent for a few moments, but his hand landed in quick succession on Xander's sit spots a total of six times to each before he spoke. "Why did you get your soul back? I can't answer that."

"M-maybe it was the Watcher…?" Xander's tenuous control over his emotions was beginning to slip. His eyes watered, despite his attempts to hold back his tears. Blindly, he threw his hand back to cover his backside.

Angel merely moved his hand out of the way and began to focus more swats to his thighs. "The 'why' doesn't matter. Only that it did happen."

"And if I lose my soul again?"

Angel was silent for several more seconds. "If it happens and I lose mine…I'll stake you rather than let you turn into a monster again."

It was too much, the pain in his bottom combining with Angel's promise to break him down emotionally. Xander closed his eyes as the tears streamed out of them, soaking his face as he slumped over Angel's lap.

The spanking stopped and Xander felt the older vampire's hand on his back, rubbing gently. He couldn't help but relax under the soothing touch. Maybe he wasn't fully a monster, if Angel was able to treat him gently after giving him this well-deserved punishment.

Maybe…just maybe…he had the chance to make up for all the evil he'd done after all.

 **The End**


	15. Parts of a Whole (Movie: Split)

**Parts of a Whole**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from the movie Split and I'm not making any money from this fic

 **Summary:** Trapped inside his own mind, Kevin is awoken by some of the other personalities

 **Warning(s):** Spanking; spoilers for the entire movie Split, up to and including the ending; violence; AU; references to abuse

 **Author's Note:** Finally getting back into the swing of things with a new Twenty Fics story. If you need a refresher, it's a challenge I've set myself to write twenty different fics, each in a different fandom, all containing spanking. And this idea has been in my head since watching the movie Split. There's not a whole lot (read: any) of sound science in this… but then again, there wasn't a whole lot in the movie itself and that's where the rules I'm playing by come from.

Also a reminder that my book Ice Warriors: Key of Midgard is available on Amazon Kindle and in paperback. If you'd like to support me, please do buy a copy and help me to spread the word.

* * *

Something was tapping his cheek.

Surfacing this time was different. He couldn't move. His eyes were closed, but when he forced them open, all around him was darkness; save a tiny pinprick of light far in the distance. His hands and feet were bound fast.

"Maybe you should slap him," a feminine voice suggested.

"I don't want to risk drawing the Horde's attention," a second, male voice replied. "Kevin, honey? We need you to wake up. None of us know what to do."

"Ugh." He meant to ask what was going on, but all that came out was a groan. He rolled his tongue in his mouth to moisten it and tried again. "Why…can't I move…?"

"The child stole the light!" a third voice burst out. "The Horde have turned against us and summoned a _monster_ …"

"Shh." The owner of the second voice, visible only as a faint outline, knelt in front of Kevin. "You'll find it more difficult to move. Waking you was hard enough. Patricia's will is strong. _You_ have to be stronger."

"I don't understand." His eyes were the only part of his body he could comfortably move and he blinked until he felt them water.

"This is a waste of time," the female voice stated.

"Don't be so impatient, Jade," the kneeling form said. Turning back to Kevin, or at least addressing him again, he asked, "Do you know who we are?"

"Parts of me." Kevin's voice was quieter than he would have liked. He remembered the dead bodies; the people some of those parts of him had _killed_. "Why don't you let me sleep?" he whispered.

"Oh, honey." A gentle pat on his leg. "We all want you to stay safe and asleep so you can recover. Even the Horde want to ensure your survival. But it's come at much too high a cost." There was a flash of white as he smiled. "I always thought that line had a lot of meaning."

"What…?" He swallowed and tried again. "What happened? _I killed_ …."

The woman, Jade, made an impatient noise in her throat. "It wasn't you. It wasn't any of us stood here."

"It wasn't even the Horde who killed anyone." The kneeling man stood, brushing his legs off.

"It was their responsibility." The second man's voice was harsh. "Theirs and the child's. They betrayed _all_ of us."

If he closed his eyes, he could sleep again. He could feel it tugging at him; the sense of peace that came from doing _nothing_. Not even dreaming. He closed his eyes. "How many are awake?"

"We're _all_ awake," the first man said. "But the three of us are the only ones who can actually move. Me – Barry – Jade and Orwell. The others are still stuck."

Kevin shook his head. "What do you expect me to do about it?"

"We have numbers on our side," Orwell said. "If the others are able to move, we can overwhelm the Horde… _kill_ them."

"Not all of them," Barry disagreed. "The child has been manipulated. Patricia played him. I would hesitate even to consign Dennis to death, as I feel he had been manipulated as much as Hedwig."

"They should still be assigned a portion of the blame," Orwell stated. "They were responsible for the deaths of two innocent girls. Those actions cannot pass without consequence."

"This conversation is pointless if we can't get the numbers to overwhelm the Horde," Jade interjected. Her outline moved closer to Kevin. "We are the furthest from the light, which is why we're no longer trapped. They are weakening."

"The time for action is _now_!" Orwell burst out. "Kevin, once you have freed yourself, we are sure the others will be freed as well. We can take back the light. _Kill_ Patricia. Banish Dennis and the child."

"No," Kevin said.

"I don't like it either," Barry responded. "But we don't have much of a choice. Hedwig was able to take the light. He needs to be stopped. The new personality and Patricia have to be destroyed."

"But that will just force them back into me," Kevin whispered. " _I'll_ be the monster."

"Oh, honey, of course not."

Kevin stiffened as he felt Barry wrap his arms around him. He was fairly certain there was no part of him that was comfortable with this kind of physical contact. Or was this a form of narcissism?

Barry pulled back enough for Kevin to see his eyes. "The Horde, or at least the truly bad members, are warped beyond recognition. Killing them is best for all involved."

"It's just like putting down a rabid animal," Orwell added.

"I don't know how to break free," Kevin whispered, fighting back his rising panic.

"It's a matter of your will being better than _hers_ ," Jade said. "We were able to wrest back control for a few short moments at a time. But the person we reached out to couldn't help. There _is_ no one else."

Was that supposed to inspire him? Kevin didn't know what they expected him to do, but he didn't like this feeling of being trapped; held against his will. Closing his eyes, he began to focus on moving just one part of his body. Just his little finger.

It felt like swimming through molasses. But he was able to move that finger a _tiny_ amount. And once he'd moved that small part of his body, it was easier to move the rest. Even so, it felt like an age before he was able to move and then he could only stagger forward a step or two before his legs gave way beneath him and he stumbled.

"Whoa, easy there." Barry was quick to catch him. "Don't worry. The weakness will fade soon. We've all experienced the same."

Kevin pushed back as soon as he felt his legs would support him. Looking past Barry, he frowned. Had the light moved? His attention was drawn from that as he noticed movement starting all around him.

"I'll go and stop them drawing the Horde's attention. At least until we have a plan," Jade muttered, before walking to the moving figures.

"Do we even _have_ a plan?" Kevin asked.

"I haven't thought much past trying to overwhelm them with sheer numbers," Barry admitted. "Battle isn't really my forte. I only have plans when it comes to fashion."

"He's bigger and stronger than all of us, including Dennis," Orwell said. "He tore apart those two girls like they were butter. He really _is_ a beast."

Out of the corner of his eye, Kevin saw the others moving; gravitating towards him, Barry and Orwell. He felt an odd sense of protectiveness; and not just over those he would term the 'good' personalities. He could agree the Beast and even Patricia deserved to die, but he didn't think he could agree with banishing Hedwig and Dennis.

But could he stand against the majority?

For personalities that had never stood as an army before, at least to the best of his knowledge, it didn't take long for them to amass around him. There were whispered instructions being passed through the group, but the majority of Kevin's attention was on the light that seemed so far away. He could make out very little around him apart from vague shapes, but after only a few moments, the vague shapes resolved into individual figures. As far as he could tell, every one of them…apart from the 'Horde', Hedwig and the Beast…stood around him.

"We just rush them," Orwell stated.

"The key is the boy," Jade said. "If one of us can grab him, we can force him to give the light to one of us. The Horde will lose its power."

"They won't hurt me," Kevin realised. "But there's nothing to stop them hurting any of you. I'll grab Hedwig. I'll…make him give the light to you." He looked at Barry.

"It's a plan, if nothing else," Orwell observed.

Jade snorted. "The _beginnings_ of a plan. The glimmer of an idea. The…."

Kevin held his hand up to stop her. "We have to make a move. Now." Ahead of them, he could see the larger form of the Beast, pacing up and down; could hear the growls and grunts of an animal, not a person. "We take out the Beast. First." He looked at the three who had woken him – Barry, Jade and Orwell – and received nods of agreement.

If he thought too hard, Kevin could remember his childhood. Could remember the splits that had caused all these different personalities. Looking around at the men and women gathered around him, he knew it wouldn't be hard to picture exactly which trauma had brought each of them into being. But if he thought too hard, he'd fall into that sleep again. Because it was preferable to remembering those days.

Forcing the memories away with a savagery that disturbed him, Kevin raised his hand, waiting until all heads turned to him and he saw the glimmer of eyes in the darkness. Then, he brought his hand down sharply, pointing towards the Horde.

They were moving. The figures around him were a blur, but as they came nearer to the light, to the four figures framed within the circle, he could make out more than just the vague shapes of the army surrounding him. A myriad of different souls that all had their origins in him.

Considering their size, the army was silent. One of the four personalities looked up and towards the army. One of them saw what was about to happen.

Dennis grabbed Hedwig in his arms, ignoring the child's startled squeak, and rolled away with him, leaving Patricia and the Beast alone.

The ring of light wavered and then held firm. As the souls around Kevin fell on the two remaining members of the Horde, Kevin clenched his jaw. How could he fight for Hedwig's safety when the child so clearly declared where he stood?

The Beast was strong, but the sheer amount of numbers overwhelmed him and Patricia. Both were quickly held fast, their arms behind their back.

Patricia glared at Kevin, her eyes gleaming malevolently. "I made you strong!"

Kevin ignored her and glanced at Barry and Jade, stood on either side of him. "Aren't you going to kill them?"

"They can't," Dennis' voice said.

Kevin looked past the two prisoners, where Dennis held Hedwig, both surrounded by other souls. The child pushed away from the man and stood glaring at Kevin with angry, tear-filled eyes. "I hate you!"

Wincing, Kevin tried not to show how much that hurt. After all, it was the same as him hating himself; but did that mean all of the souls around him felt the same as the child? Pushing that thought aside, he looked at Dennis and asked, "What do you mean?"

Dennis' eyes shifted to Patricia and then he drew himself up to his full height. "A promise first."

An angry mutter rippled through the souls and Orson burst out, "You have no right to ask for anything!"

"Mercy." Dennis' voice was quiet, but cut through the voices like a knife through butter. "For the child. He didn't know what he was doing."

"That's not true!" Hedwig protested. "I knew what I was doing."

Dennis closed his eyes and Kevin wondered if the bigger man looked as exasperated as he felt.

A crafty smile came over Patricia's face and she looked back towards Hedwig. "Give him control of the light!" She pointed at the Beast.

No one currently stood in the light and Kevin wasn't sure what that meant for his body on the outside. But Hedwig screwed up his face in concentration.

Kevin moved faster than he'd ever moved in his life. Before the light could hit the Beast, he threw himself past the prisoners, grabbing Hedwig and swatting the child without thinking twice.

Hedwig stared at Kevin, his eyes wide. Barry gave Kevin a nod and then stepped fully into the light, taking control of the body as Hedwig's mouth dropped open and he said accusingly, "You hit me!"

"I spanked you," Kevin corrected. "And I'll do it again if I have to."

Hedwig reached back and rubbed, pouting. When Kevin looked at Dennis, the other man searched his face for a long moment and then seemed to come to a decision. "They can't kill them. _You_ have to do that."

Before Kevin could ask how, Patricia began to struggle, attempting to break free of her captors. As she addressed Dennis, though, her voice was eerily calm and sweet. "You won't save yourself switching sides. Even if he lets you live, no one will ever trust you."

Dennis flinched visibly, but didn't look at Patricia, instead focusing his attention entirely on Kevin. "I'm not trying to save myself."

"Hedwig. I know." Kevin nodded. "I admire that, but I'm not going to kill you. Or even banish you, like the rest want." He stepped closer to Dennis, lowering his voice so the others couldn't hear. He hoped they'd come round to his way of thinking, but he'd persuade them when Patricia and the Beast were no longer a factor.

A brief look of hope passed across Dennis' face, though it was quickly chased away. "They won't allow you to save me."

"This is my head. My rules. Besides," Kevin glanced at the still-pouting Hedwig, "it's not like you won't be punished." As Dennis opened his mouth, presumably to ask what he meant, Kevin quickly asked, "How can I kill them?"

"Like you said." Dennis shrugged. "Your head. Your rules. Make a weapon. Kill them. I wouldn't suggest using your bare hands. That's a burden you shouldn't carry."

"I'm not going to be able to go back to sleep after this, am I?" Maybe that was for the best. Look at what happened when he wasn't conscious.

Hedwig paused, looking at Kevin with so much hope in his eyes, Kevin felt his knees buckle. "You'll stay with us?"

Kevin nodded and smiled when the child threw his arms around his waist, hugging tight. Touching the back of Hedwig's head, he said quietly, "But you can't keep being naughty."

Hedwig leaned back to look up into his eyes. "Or you'll spank me again?"

"Yeah," Kevin agreed.

"Are you going to spank Dennis and Patricia?" Hedwig asked seriously.

Kevin looked at Dennis, who nodded and gently pulled the child back into his arms, hiding his face against his chest.

There wasn't anything for it. As Kevin walked back to the prisoners, he considered the weapon he wanted to use. By the time he stood before Patricia and the Beast once more, he held the cold metal trigger of a gun. Not allowing a moment of hesitation, he raised it and aimed the barrel between Patricia's eyes.

"I was making us strong," she whispered.

Kevin shook his head. "There's no strength in murder." He tightened his finger on the trigger and jumped at the loud shot.

There was no blood. No bullet wound. Patricia simply dissolved into nothing.

Despite the reassurances, Kevin had half been expecting to feel Patricia's personality rush into him. But he didn't feel any different and it was even easier to move across to the Beast. "You don't belong," he told it. "Everyone else has a reason. A purpose. You are nothing but an animal."

"We are the same," the Beast replied. "Kill me and you will have the proof of what I say."

Kevin swallowed, his mouth dry. "I guess we'll see about that," he whispered, before pulling the trigger a second time.

It looked easier than it felt. Kevin stared numbly at the space where the two rouge personalities had been held. Shouldn't he feel _something_?

Orson's voice penetrated the darkness. "There is still Dennis and the child to take care of."

 _My head. My rules._ Kevin took a deep breath and turned to the other personalities. He glanced at Barry, but the other man was still controlling the light; and while he might be the staunchest ally for rehabilitating Hedwig and Dennis, Kevin knew he couldn't look to him right now.

"You're not going to do anything, are you?" Jade's face twisted in disgust. "They were _responsible_ for the Beast's actions…."

"No," Kevin quickly interjected. "If it wasn't for Patricia, it's likely neither of them would have summoned the Beast." He looked at each of the souls in turn. "You may not have agreed with waking me, but Barry, Jade and Orson did anyway," he stated. "Now that I am awake, I won't be going back to sleep. But I'm not going to try and step into the light, unless it's on the rare occasions I might need to." He didn't want to live on the outside. It was safe here inside his own head.

"Then what are you going to do?" Orson asked.

Kevin didn't voice a response. He stepped over to Dennis and Hedwig once more and crouched down to address the child. "I'm going to have to punish you," he said when Hedwig looked at him. " _Both_ of you," he added, looking up to meet Dennis' eyes. "I can't exactly make this private. We could move to the furthest point from the light, but I think the others need to see what's about to happen." So they could be satisfied the two were in fact being punished.

Kevin held his hand out to Hedwig, who slowly gripped it. Smiling to try and reassure the child, he stood and led Hedwig through the crowd of souls, towards the closest chair.

As he took a seat and gently deposited the child across his lap, Kevin tried not to think about his own experiences of discipline. He knew how shattered and broken he was. The fact he was surrounded by so many personalities who had formed within his broken psyche drove that home.

But he knew the difference between discipline and abuse. At least he hoped he did well enough for Hedwig.

The child lay still across his lap, not squirming or protesting. Aware that every eye was on him, he looked down at the denim-clad backside across his lap, lifted his hand and brought it down firmly.

The smack wasn't hard. In fact, over his pants, Kevin doubted it felt any stronger than a pat. But Hedwig let out a sob and threw his hand back to cover his bottom.

Kevin caught the child's hand, moving it against the small of his back and holding it there. He continued to bring his hand down at the same force, cupping his palm so the smacks sounded louder.

Hedwig began whimpering, his free hand gripping tight on Kevin's ankle. By the time Kevin had gone over his backside three times, the child was sobbing softly.

Suspecting it was the emotions rather than pain causing the tears, Kevin nevertheless couldn't force himself to continue. He lifted the child into his arms, settling Hedwig against his shoulder and gently rubbing his hair.

As quickly as Hedwig had begun crying, he stopped, resting his head on Kevin's shoulder and hiccupping softly. Within moments, he slumped as a dead weight in Kevin's arms and began snorting.

Lifting his head to look at the others surrounding him, Kevin found it impossible to read their expressions. Were they going to accept his decisions, or would they fight him on this?

Jade was the one to step forward. She held her arms out. "You can't hold him and take Dennis in hand at the same time," she stated. "I'll take the child."

Despite the seriousness of what he was facing…what they were _all_ facing…Kevin couldn't help but smile. "Thank you." Carefully, he transferred Hedwig from his arms to Jade's, glancing past her and looking at Dennis. The two locked eyes for a long moment and then Kevin crooked a finger at him. He wasn't sure if Dennis would submit. After all, the man was one of the stronger personalities in his head.

"You'd better be sure of what you're doing," Jade muttered, moving out of the way as Dennis closed his eyes and then walked over to Kevin's side.

Kevin didn't say a word. He just patted his knee and waited while Dennis settled himself in place. Kevin let his hand rest on the other man's lower back and then brought his hand down in a firm smack.

Dennis didn't move and didn't make a sound. Kevin landed another several hard smacks without any reaction and then paused. He knew this wasn't having much of an effect and he only really had two choices if he wanted to get through to Dennis. Knowing he wouldn't use an implement, he slipped his fingers into the waistband of Dennis' pants, tugging them down.

Apart from a sharp intake of breath, Dennis didn't react, even when Kevin tugged his underwear down as well. There were no marks from the swats Kevin had already delivered, but determined to change that, he lifted his hand and brought it down in a firmer smack than before.

Dennis was quiet and still as Kevin covered his entire backside with swats. He didn't make a sound as Kevin began a second circuit, but he began shifting slightly, as if trying to control exactly where the swats landed.

And that, of course, was the problem. Dennis was still trying to stay in control. Patricia had been the only one to exert any kind of power over him; but what he was doing now was trying to pull back that control, even while he appeared to submit.

With that knowledge, Kevin changed his approach after completing the second circuit. He swatted a few times on a spot high on Dennis' left buttock, then delivered a sharp swat to the top of his left thigh before returning to the previous spot.

After a few moments of this, Dennis began to shift. A few swats to his thighs had his hand flying back and Kevin paused the spanking to move his hand out of the way.

When Dennis' bottom was pink with a few darker marks, Kevin began to speak softly. "I know you've been treated like an outcast because of your personality. The others find you intimidating and I guess it was easy to join Patricia. But I know that you only intended to help us all. To _protect_ me."

"I knew the Beast would kill them." Dennis' voice was strained.

That was the problem. Hedwig was a child. He didn't really understand death. Kevin wasn't sure he even realised Patricia and the Beast were gone for good. Dennis, on the other hand…. "Do you regret your actions?"

The other man drew in a sharp breath as Kevin began smacking harder and faster, resting his other hand flat on the ground while the hand Kevin held curled its fingers around his. "I can't regret wanting to protect you. But…I regret my part in them dying."

"I know the girls didn't know you, but Doctor Fletcher did," Kevin said. "She's dead because of your actions. Two innocent girls are dead because of your actions."

Dennis breathed deep. "Then you should have killed me."

"Not an option." Kevin paused the spanking, resting his hand on Dennis' lower back. "But now? Things are going to be different."

"In what way?"

"It'll be me protecting you. Not the other way round."

The change was minute, but still there. Dennis slumped forward over Kevin's knee and it sounded like he was beginning to cry very quietly. "I won't be treated like an outcast?"

"No. Not any more," Kevin promised. He squeezed Dennis' hand and then let go, tugging his pants back into place. "But just like Hedwig…."

"I know. This will happen again." Pushing himself up, Dennis wiped at his eyes.

Kevin nodded and reached out, placing a hand on Dennis' shoulder and squeezing gently. When the other man relaxed, he looked around at the rest of the personalities and sighed.

It was going to be a long road ahead of them, but at least he would no longer be a danger to anyone else around him.

 **The End**


	16. Unexpected Turnings (Agents of SHIELD)

**Unexpected Turnings**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from the television series Agents of SHIELD and I'm not making any money from this fic

 **Summary:** Someone wakes up. Someone comes back. And everything is turned on its head

 **Warning(s):** Spanking; spoilers up to and including the season four finale of Agents of SHIELD; AU; violence

* * *

Consciousness brought a wave of agony that made his jaw clench to prevent a scream escaping. He wasn't a stranger to pain, but this was like having every inch of bare skin covered in boiling acid.

"He's too dangerous to bring round." The unfamiliar voice broke into his mind. It was pitched low and might have belonged to a man, but he couldn't be sure.

Did they know he was awake? He kept his eyelashes lowered, peering out through slits at what appeared to be a white hospital room. He strained his ears, but couldn't hear any beeping. Or anyone outside the room.

"I agree it might be a dangerous move to bring him out, but if we play our cards right, he could be an asset to us." The second speaker was definitely a woman, with a husky note to her voice that suggested she might be a heavy smoker.

"We have to use him in another area, then," the first voice said. "Away from SHIELD."

He turned his head to the side, each movement as slow and careful as he could make it, and then, just as slow and careful, he rolled his head to the other side, forcing nothing more than an exhalation of breath out as his neck clicked painfully.

Two people, a man and a woman, stood on either side of what he assumed was his bed. Neither spared him so much as a glance, both apparently caught up in whatever they were discussing and paying no attention to him. A slow visual inspection of each revealed they weren't armed. The first mistakes. He flexed his hands and feet, realising he wasn't bound.

So. His captors were well-trained or over-confident, whether in their skills or that they believed he was still unconscious.

His vision swam and his head throbbed, but those were minor discomforts he pushed to the side. They weren't paying attention to him. It was now or never.

He didn't usually fight from a prone or supine position, but he swept one leg to the side, catching the woman in the stomach. His opposite fist caught the man in the groin, making him double over with a grunt of pain.

Before the woman could react, he launched himself off the bed. Fatigue and muscle weakness made him stumble, but he still knocked into her, bearing her to the floor.

She stared up at him and her eyes widened a fraction.

It was all the warning he needed. He rolled to one side just as a heavy boot stomped down where his back had been.

There was a loud crack and the woman screamed, her eyes rolling back in her head as she fainted.

One was down. Only the man was left, provided he had no way to call for backup.

Dropping into a fighting crouch, facing his enemy, he saw the tell-tale sign of a black radio sticking out of the man's belt. He lashed out and his foot connected with the radio, knocking it from the man's hand and sending it crashing to the ground, where it broke.

His body still felt shockingly weak, but he punched the man in the jaw and then knocked him back into the wall, pinning him there with his arm braced against the man's throat, cutting off his airway.

As the man began to slump forward, he pulled his arm away, but used it to pin the man's chest instead. "Where is SHIELD?"

The man wheezed, gasping for air, but got out, "They will never trust you."

" _Why_?"

" _Because_ …." The man started laughing. "Because, Grant Ward, they think you're a traitor."

* * *

This wasn't the first time Leo had woken up with his throat raw from screaming after a nightmare. But it was the first time he'd woken up from a nightmare where _he'd_ been the one doing the terrible, awful, monstrous things.

It didn't matter that the Leo Fitz in the Framework was different. It didn't even matter that the people he'd killed weren't ones he remembered meeting in reality, as he couldn't be sure none of them had had living counterparts in their world.

He knew he wasn't going to get back to sleep now. They were 'safe', whatever that meant at this time. Safe physically, but not mentally. Not emotionally. He wasn't safe from the nightmares.

But more than likely, he was the only one who had them. None of the others seemed affected, but why would they be? He was the only one who'd become a true monster.

It was late. Leo didn't know what time it was, but his body was tired enough he figured he hadn't had nearly enough sleep. His bunk wasn't much bigger than the one he'd had before…back before HYDRA had been awoken in SHIELD. Before they'd been completely and utterly betrayed. Before….

His phone chimed, breaking into his thoughts. Who else was awake this late? Leo took his phone from the tiny bedside table and swiped his finger across the screen to bring up the number.

Unknown. But that didn't mean much nowadays.

Swiping again, Leo's frown deepened as he brought up and read the message:

" _Fitz. I need to meet you. I'm sending coordinates to your phone. Don't tell anyone else, not even Jemma. I don't know who I can trust. Ward.'_

There was more to the message, but they were only the coordinates. Feeling faint, Leo put his hand on the wall to keep his balance. Maybe it was Senator Ward…but then why would the man be sending _him_ a message, like they knew each other? But it couldn't be _Grant Ward_. The man was dead. Dead twice over, considering Hive had been killed in his body. _How_ could he…?

Maybe it was a trick. A test. None of them knew anything about the people who had brought them here, save for the claims it was a safehouse. They weren't a part of SHIELD and they certainly weren't a part of HYDRA. Maybe he wasn't the only one who'd received a message, but how could he know for certain?

Staring at his phone, Leo thought about deleting the text. Switching the phone off. Pretending he hadn't received the text. His finger hovered over the button to turn it off before he gave a forceful sigh and sent a message:

" _How do I know I can trust YOU?"_

A second later, as if the text had been ready to send, the reply came:

" _You did once before."_

"But that was before you dropped me and Jemma into the ocean," Leo whispered. He should tell Coulson. Or May. He shouldn't be considering going to _meet_ a man who was not only supposed to be dead, but was a traitor. _Why_ was he considering this and not deciding to report it to Coulson? Or even tell Jemma about it?

* * *

The coordinates led Leo to a 24-hour café. Sneaking out of the base had been easier than he'd expected, at least physically. Emotionally, he couldn't shake the feeling that he should really have been telling someone, Jemma at least, about the messages.

Ward sat in a corner booth, his back to the wall. There was a cup of coffee resting on the table in front of him, but it was untouched as his eyes roved around the café's interior. His body was tense and his hands weren't in visible view.

Leo took courage from the fact there were other people in the café. Ward wouldn't try anything if there were witnesses, would he?

When Ward's eyes landed on Leo, the smile he gave was hesitant but real. Lifting his hand, he waved Leo over.

Hesitantly, Leo walked over and sat down opposite Ward. He couldn't help but notice the colourful bruises covering the man's face. "What happened to you?"

Grimacing, Ward touched a purple bruise just under his right eye. "I had a run-in with HYDRA."

"I guess they didn't like it when you got possessed by HIVE." In response to Ward lowering his voice, Leo did the same until he was whispering.

Ward sat back, looking around before focusing on Leo again. He took a deep breath and then nodded, as if coming to a decision. "I'm not HYDRA."

Leo narrowed his eyes and then winced. "I came up with all these arguments against it. I tried to convince myself and everyone else that you weren't one of the bad guys. _And then you dropped us into the ocean_." He leaned forward, not even caring that tears were beginning to blur his eyes. "Me and Jemma." He shook his head. "I _trusted_ you."

Ward stayed still and quiet, his eyes never leaving Leo's as he talked. Finally, he spoke. "It wasn't me."

"It _looked_ like you." Leo winced again at the hopeful note in his voice. Hadn't he gone past wishing Ward hadn't been revealed to be a traitor? But everything was so off-kilter and he was just tired and wanted to forget he'd ever heard of the Framework. "You're telling me you've got a twin brother?"

"I was cloned."

The response was so unexpected that all Leo could do was gape open-mouthed at Ward. He had the sudden urge to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "Cloned? You couldn't come up with a better story than _that_?"

"What happened to you, Fitz?"

Leo opened his mouth to brush him off. To point out he was no longer the innocent, naïve man who'd looked up to and trusted Ward. What came out was far more honest. "We wound up in this place called the Framework. I was…working with HYDRA. I did a lot of bad things. I hurt and killed a lot of people. _Good_ people. Maybe they didn't exist outside the Framework. But it doesn't change that I killed them."

"That wasn't you, Fitz." Ward's voice was a little stilted, but his eyes never left Leo's.

He _looked_ sincere. But what did Leo know? He'd been naïve enough to keep on convincing himself Ward was one of the good guys, even after everyone else had accepted the truth. "What am I doing here?" He flinched, realising he'd spoken.

"Because…." Ward frowned and then gave a slightly rueful smile. "After we had to work together, I thought maybe you'd listen."

"So you weren't cloned then?"

Ward lost his smile. "I didn't expect you to believe me just like that, Fitz. You can run any kinds of tests on me you need to. Do you have any samples from the other version?"

"Maybe…but I don't think I could bring myself to start running tests. Too many memories…." Fitz admitted quietly.

"What about Simmons?"

"You tried to _kill_ us both. I can't let you near her." Leo hated the uncertain note in his voice. Hated how much he wanted to believe Ward. "And even if I believed you, no one else would."

Ward was no longer looking at Leo. His attention was clearly elsewhere and he slid his hand under the table. "Fitz. I need you to get up slowly. Walk to the restroom. Lock yourself in. Don't come out until I come to get you."

"You're not my superior anymore!" Leo protested, finally finding his voice. "You're not even part of SHIELD! You're a traitor. You…!" He flinched back as Ward lifted his hand and placed a gun on the table.

"Fitz. Do what I say."

It was nearly impossible to tell what Ward was thinking. The sight of the gun turned Leo's mouth dry, even though it wasn't aimed at him. He quickly stood up, risking a glance towards the café window.

A second Grant Ward stood outside, identical to the first apart from a lack of bruising on his face.

"Fitz."

Leo's head whipped round to the Ward with him. "If you want them to believe you…you can't kill him," he uttered.

" _Go_ ," Ward said. "When it's safe, I'll come get you. But only open the door if I say the password 'Simmons Sandwich'."

* * *

Leo checked his phone yet again, seeing the message he'd received from Coulson. He couldn't hear anything going on in the café. Was that a good sign? Had Ward ended up dead? Surely Coulson would at least wait to hear an explanation, even if the Ward who'd met him in the café had killed the other Ward.

But what if the other Ward killed _their_ Ward?

The restroom wasn't big enough to pace in fully, but he still attempted it anyway, casting periodic glances at the door. _Surely_ he would have heard something by now.

When his phone chimed with a message, Leo nearly jumped out of his skin. He snatched it from his pocket and stared anxiously at the display, which showed it was Coulson who'd sent it:

' _Fitz. You can come out now. Simmons Sandwich'._

Taking a deep breath, Leo unlocked and pushed open the door of the restroom, stepping back into the main area of the café.

The few customers who'd been in the café were giving statements to one or two members of the team; or so Fitz assumed from the agents he recognised by sight if not name talking to them. Quickly glancing around the café, he saw Coulson standing next to _their_ Ward, while the other was cuffed with agents surrounding him.

Okay. So they knew the clone was dangerous.

"Leo…!" Jemma quickly ran over to him. "I was worried…." She wrapped her arms around him and hugged.

Leo stiffened, not able to return her hug. He didn't think he deserved that. Not from her. Of course, it wasn't like anyone else would hug him. She was probably the only one not disgusted by him. He could see May, but she was standing back, watching them with an unreadable expression on her face. "Where's Daisy?" he asked.

"After what happened…with Ward…and the Framework, I thought it was best not to bring her in," Coulson answered. "I hardly know what to think myself." He looked between the two Wards and then focused on the one who _wasn't_ cuffed. "You understand that, even though there's a clone, I can't just assume you're on our side. Not without some kind of evidence. A lot of agents were shown to be HYDRA."

Ward nodded. "Yes, sir. I hope that this information will be of use to you." He took a thumb drive out of his pocket and held it out to Coulson. "I couldn't get much. They were holding me in a medical facility and I suspect they put me in an induced coma. Of course, it's altogether possible I might be a clone as well. I _have_ considered that my memories could be implanted ones."

"What do you think, Leo?" Jemma murmured. "You never believed he was a traitor. Maybe you were right all along."

Leo stepped away from her, wincing at the stab of guilt tormenting him. "You'll find out. Take samples from both of them. Match them to what we've got already." He swallowed and turned away, not wanting to put voice to what he felt…what had _felt_ true from the moment Ward sent him the message.

That Ward was _really_ a good man. That he hadn't betrayed them. That he was telling the truth.

* * *

The knock on the door startled Leo out of his thoughts and he glanced up, seeing Ward stood framed in the doorway of the lab. He blinked a few times and then looked around, realising he was alone. Where had Jemma gone? "You need Jemma to run some tests?"

"I wanted to talk to you." Ward stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him. The bracelet on his wrist caught the light.

Leo frowned, his eyes drawn towards the grey, metallic object. "They should take that off. It's not like the tests were inconclusive. And I thought Coulson had established you weren't a clone already."

"I asked him to leave it on," Ward replied. "It has video feed that can be activated if need be. And if they have more clones…the bracelet can be removed only by a combination the director knows. If I get captured, or you're struggling to tell who's real and who's not, forcing off the bracelet is going to leave a mark. Potentially more than that, if it's removed by cutting off my hand."

Leo flinched at that visual. "How are you…?" He swallowed and forced himself to continue. "Does this feel strange to you?"

"I'm adaptable, Fitz," Ward answered. "I just follow orders. If I'm needed here, that's where I'll be. If I'm needed over the other side of the world? I'll be there."

"I don't know where Simmons is," Leo said.

"I wasn't looking for Simmons." Ward took a step closer to Leo. "You haven't been sleeping, have you?"

"I have too many nightmares." Leo's admittance was easy. He'd looked up to and trusted Ward before HYDRA had been revealed; and knowing that Ward was in fact one of the good guys, he was eager to return to that.

"You're carrying too much guilt."

Leo paused and cocked his head to one side. "You're trying to psycho-analyse me?"

"I want to…." Ward paused. "I want to help you. Simmons told me she's worried."

"She…didn't try talking to me?"

Ward shrugged. "She hasn't given me much detail. She just told me that she's worried about you. That she can't help you and seems to think _I_ can." He leaned lightly against the wall. "I knew I'd been out of it a while, but more's changed than I'd expected or anticipated. I can't imagine seeing and experiencing that change makes it much easier."

"I…." Leo closed his eyes for just a moment. "I _was_ handling it fine."

"And then the Framework forced you down a path you never would have taken."

"Yeah. I guess that's one way of putting it." Leo sighed and focused fully on Ward. "How are you planning to help me? Guilt isn't just something I can force away."

"No, but there are safe ways to release that guilt. Safer ways than staying up for days on end." Ward stepped closer to Leo and reached out, gently grasping his arm. He looked around and then began to guide Leo towards one of the lab chairs.

In most circumstances, Leo likely would have pieced together what Ward was about to do. His mind was dulled by exhaustion and guilt and it wasn't until Ward had sat and pulled Leo across his lap that he realised exactly what was going to happen.

The first swat took him by surprise. Leo lay over Ward's lap in a sense of confusion as the other man continued to bring his hand down in firm smacks, covering his entire backside in a series of methodical swats. "Why…?" He finally found his voice.

"Simmons said something about this."

Leo twisted himself round enough so he could look at Ward's face. "She suggested you… _spank_ me?"

"It was a throwaway comment. I don't think she actually meant for me to turn you over my knee. But it's true you feel guilty. I've never been spanked, but I know what it is. I know it's a punishment that doesn't cause serious or lasting harm and there are a lot of people for whom it's had a positive effect." While he was speaking, Ward continued to bring his hand down in the firm smacks, echoing dully over Leo's pants.

Wincing, Leo turned his face away, his backside beginning to sting. He tried to hold himself still as Ward's hand continued to land, but it didn't take long for him to begin squirming as Ward's hand covered skin he'd already paid attention to. The swats were still felt even through two layers of protection and he grunted, reaching a hand down to grasp Ward's ankle. "I didn't hurt you."

Ward paused and Leo wondered if the other man would stop and let him up. Instead, he felt his pants tugged down and the spanking began again, this time with only his boxers between his backside and Ward's hand.

The swats were stinging more now and Leo whimpered, jerking his legs a little whenever Ward's hand returned to his thighs, uncovered by his underwear. After three circuits like that, he threw his hand back to cover his backside. "Ward, stop…please."

"I'm not good at feelings or emotions, Leo. I know you all called me 'Robot' and I know the majority of people here still think I'm a traitor and are expecting me to turn on them at a moment's notice. I…I can't do anything about that fear. I can't make them believe in me. But I care about you. I want to help you. And…I don't think you're letting anyone in. Not even Simmons and she's the person you let the closest to you."

Leo's breath hitched as his hand was moved out of the way and held against his back. Ward tugged down his underwear, removing the last layer of protection over his backside, and his hand began delivering sharper, crisper swats.

His backside was heating to nearly unbearable levels, but the tears that began to escape Leo's eyes had nothing to do with the physical pain. The guilt was choking him and he managed to cry out, "I hurt so many people!"

"No. You didn't. Inside the Framework, your mind was warped and manipulated." Ward's hand began focusing on the more tender creases between Leo's sit spots and thighs, shifting him forward for easier access. "If it was truly you, if you were truly a monster, it wouldn't be keeping you up at night. You wouldn't be neglecting your work and yourself because you felt so guilty."

Leo slumped over Ward's knee as the tears fell harder and faster, blurring everything around him. Ward still had hold of his hand and he wrapped his fingers around Ward's, needing the contact. Needing the forgiveness Ward offered, even though it was really his own that he needed. "I can't even…say sorry," he fought to get out.

"I know," Ward said. "I know it hurts, but it _wasn't you_. Not the Leo Fitz I know, who's sensitive and kind, who accepted me from the start and proved himself so many times during our work together."

Leo closed his eyes, allowing himself to focus on the sound and feel of Ward's hand giving him the least of what he deserved. He was trying to hold onto the guilt, but every time an image of one of the people he'd hurt sparked in his mind, a swat would land and scatter his concentration. The spanking wasn't anywhere near as much pain as he felt like he deserved, but he knew no one was going to harm him badly. "It wasn't…my fault?" he whispered brokenly.

"No, Leo." Ward stopped the spanking and began to rub his back. "You were forced to conform to something that shocks and horrifies you now. You're still a good man."

The tears were still running down his cheeks, but Leo was no longer fighting or resisting. His bottom ached, but his heart felt lighter. Sniffling, he said, "I think I…understand now. Can I get up?"

"Yeah."

Leo carefully pushed himself up off Ward's lap, pulling his clothing back into place and keeping his head down so he didn't have to look at the other man.

"Hey, come here." Ward reached out and wrapped his arm around Leo's shoulders, pulling him in close. "You doing okay?" he whispered.

Leo took a deep breath and then, deciding that he didn't care if he made Ward uncomfortable or not, wrapped his arms around the other man's waist and clung on tight. "Yeah. I think so. _Now_."

"Good." Ward sounded hesitant and uncertain, but he wrapped his own arms around Leo and hugged him.

 **The End**


	17. Apes and Humans Together (Planet of Apes

**Apes and Humans Together**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from the Planet of the Apes franchise and I'm not making any money from this fic

 **Summary:** He never misses…except when he chooses to

 **Warning(s):** Spanking; spoilers for the Planet of the Apes new franchise up to and including War For The Planet of The Apes; violence; AU

 **Author's Note:** Kind of an unusual pairing, I know. Hopefully, it isn't too weird. I had this idea since seeing the movie; and, well, I couldn't do an ape spanking an ape like I wanted to after the second movie in the new Planet of the Apes franchise.

* * *

The arrow whizzed past Caesar and he watched it fall to the ground. Turning, he snarled viciously at the human…Preacher…who aimed his crossbow at the ape's heart. "The next one won't miss!"

Forcing the human speech from his mouth grew easier with time, though it still felt like he was twisting his mouth into strange shapes. "He said you never miss." He didn't wait for a response, reaching to pick up the makeshift bomb. "I have to…protect my family."

"Hey, donkey!" one of the humans yelled from the tower. "Stop standing there and give me my gun!"

There wasn't time. He could hear his friends and family falling and dying. Was his son safe? Lake? But Caesar's eyes were drawn to Koda's ape on top of the tower, staring at him. The human with him aimed his gun at the ape's head.

An arrow whizzed forward, piercing the human's hand and making him drop the gun, screaming.

Caesar didn't stop to wonder or question the human's change of heart. As long as he wasn't going to get an arrow or a bullet in his back, he could save those who still lived.

As soon as he threw what was in his paws, Caesar turned. The human was stood staring at the tank and Caesar let out a frustrated growl before grabbing Preacher round the waist and throwing him over his shoulder.

Cresting the rise, Caesar didn't allow himself to see the bodies of his friends and comrades covering the ground. He refused to allow himself to feel anything when the planes and trucks came into view, carrying the second army.

Preacher was still and quiet over Caesar's shoulder. Only the sense of his breathing indicated he was still alive. He was probably in shock. Or maybe the mutated virus had infected him and he would need someone to care for and protect him against a world that couldn't understand.

Those who lived were clambering over the mountain and Caesar sighed in relief when he glimpsed Lake guiding his son. That relief was short-lived, however, when a rumbling reached his ears. Turning, he saw the explosion hadn't only decimated the camp and the wall the soldiers had been building. An avalanche was quickly engulfing everything in its path.

"Hold on tight to me!" Caesar directed the human. He felt hands grip tight onto his fur as he began to scramble up one tree, then had to swing to another as a mass of snow and ice knocked it.

Caesar clung on tight to the trunk as the snow and ice lashed his fur, stinging the still-healing lash marks on his back. He only shifted his weight enough so he could slide Preacher down his body, using himself as a barrier of protection for the human.

When the avalanche settled, Caesar looked around and relaxed, seeing the rest of his people had found their way up the trees as well. His eyes sought out and found his son, held protectively by Lake. Maurice had the girl-child safely with him…and while many of his people had been killed, a lot still lived. They were safe.

Preacher was squirming against him and Caesar tightened his grip. "Don't struggle. You will fall," he warned.

The human looked up at him, eyes wide as he swallowed nervously. "Why did you save me?"

"You could have shot me. You did not." Caesar shook himself, scattering snow and ice everywhere, and watched the human. "Should I leave you here, for your fellow humans to find?"

Preacher shifted slightly, glancing down at where the camp and the two armies had been, then at the apes holding onto the trees. "I can't go with you."

"Do you want to?"

"I don't have a place to belong. Not with the humans. How he treated you was wrong." Preacher hesitated.

Caesar waited; then, when Preacher didn't continue, asked, "What do _you_ want to do?"

"It doesn't matter." The human's voice was low, filled with regret. "I don't have a place anywhere. I won't ever be accepted anywhere. Your people know me. They won't forget what I did."

Caesar looked down at the helmet-covered head, bowed low in shame. He raised his paw, letting it rest on the human, though he was aware that he had to hold back his strength so as not to break any bones. "You will come with me," he decided. "With us. I spared your life once. I will save it again."

Preacher shook his head. "I don't deserve it."

If one of his fellow apes had been tormented by so much guilt, Caesar would have cuffed him or her; displayed domination, making it clear _he_ decided what penance they paid. But a human couldn't stand up to the sort of pain an ape could take and Caesar remembered seeing how humans punished each other when it was necessary. The punishment he thought of was one he'd seen used on children, but in comparison to him, that was what Preacher was. Smaller. Weaker. In need of protection. Caesar could easily leave him here to fend for himself.

That didn't feel like an option.

Caesar rested his paw on Preacher's back, using just enough pressure that the human raised his head to look at him. "I can't take care of you here and now, but there is a safe place for our kind. When we reach that place, I will punish you for your actions."

Preacher looked torn, as if he wasn't sure what to respond to first. Finally, he asked, " _Our_ kind?"

"Yes." Caesar looked across at Maurice, the human child clinging to his back. " _Our_ kind."

* * *

During their trip into the desert, Caesar had kept the child, Nova, away from Preacher. He knew the doll she'd carried had infected the Colonel and didn't know if she herself could infect other humans. Nova did seem wary of her fellow human, but not scared of him.

Caesar didn't know if Preacher clung to him because he knew the danger of the mutated virus the child carried, or because he feared the rest of the apes. When riding, Preacher perched on the back of the horse, arms wrapped around Caesar's waist, was an unfamiliar feeling. Caesar was used to the weight of other apes holding onto him, but a human was novel and he was very aware of how easy it would be for Preacher to fall.

The only ape who'd reacted badly to Preacher's presence had been Red. The first time they'd stopped to rest, the ape who had been on Koba's side had bounded up to Preacher, beating his chest and snarling viciously. Caesar needed to intervene directly, but fortunately, Red had backed down, even if he hadn't been happy.

The journey hadn't been short or easy by any means, but the apes had been in high spirits now they were free of their captivity. Caesar joined the rest of the apes as they settled, watching as Nova took his son's paw and led him to play with the other children.

Maurice settled on the other side of Caesar and signed to him, _We are home._

"Yes," Caesar agreed.

Preacher stirred and Caesar felt rather than saw him look at them. "Will you teach me to sign and understand you?"

Caesar grunted. "You were not so eager to learn before." He looked away, but not before glimpsing Preacher bowing his head in shame.

Maurice touched Caesar's shoulder and signed to him: _You are better than that. Do not hold past transgressions over his head. Punish. Forgive. Move on. Be better._

Caesar knew Maurice was right. When he'd seen the guilt on Preacher's face before, it had been easy to decide to punish him in a way that was normal for humans. Clearly, Maurice had read his intentions and Caesar glanced towards his son.

 _I will watch over them,_ Maurice signed to him.

Caesar nodded and then lumbered to his feet. Reaching down, he grasped Preacher's shoulder and gently pulled the human to his feet. "Come with me." He didn't wait for Preacher to voice a response and drew the human back, away from the rest of the apes.

"Are you going to kill me?" Preacher asked calmly. "You should have before. Back when you blew up the camp. I wouldn't blame you."

There was no point in talking at the human to convince him. Preacher was too far gone to listen. "Take off your pants," Caesar directed.

The look of surprise on Preacher's face was almost comical. "My pants? Not my shirt?"

"I'm not going to flog you," Caesar said. It didn't surprise him that Preacher was expecting that. The Colonel hadn't seemed to care that much about the individual soldiers under his care, only in what they could do for him.

Preacher hesitated, but closed his eyes and gave a jerky half-nod. "Yes, sir." Opening his eyes again, his fingers fumbled with the fastenings on his pants.

Caesar watched as he finally got the button and zipper undone, then shoved his pants down. The human then waited, as if for further instructions.

Caesar sat down on the ground and stretched his legs out. Patting the lap he made, he said, "Bend over."

Preacher held still, a faint blush playing over his cheeks. "How does an ape know about a human punishment?"

"An ape raised by humans remembers much," Caesar answered. He'd thought seriously about how he was going to punish Preacher and ultimately decided he would only use his paw. He was confident he could control his strength enough that the spanking would hurt but not damage.

Preacher took a hesitant step towards Caesar and then stopped, casting a glance towards the other apes seated on the bank. He swallowed and then quickly sped up, almost throwing himself over Caesar's lap.

Caesar carefully measured his paw against Preacher's backside, noting it was big enough to cover more than half of the human's bottom.

Keeping his claws under careful control, Caesar raised his paw and swatted Preacher's backside.

The human jerked, but didn't make a sound. He didn't even when Caeasr continued to swat him, his backside and thighs beginning to show pink through his underwear.

Pausing, Caesar leaned over so he could see the human's face. It was flushed red, with tear tracks covering his cheeks and he was biting his lower lip, hard enough to draw beads of blood.

"You are not Ape."

His voice must have startled the human, as Preacher jumped, releasing his lip and twisting his head to stare fully into Caesar's eyes.

"You are not Ape," Caesar repeated. "I am not showing dominance. I am punishing you as I would any human I cared for. Do not stop yourself reacting."

Preacher closed his eyes, whispering, "Crying is a sign of weakness."

"Do you think you are strong?" Caesar delivered a harder swat and felt the human jump.

"Not compared to an ape." Preacher spoke through gritted teeth.

"You turned against your fellow humans." Another harder smack.

Preacher groaned and squeezed his eyes shut as another tear slipped out. "He would have killed you. He made you slaves. I had to _watch it_."

"We were on different sides of the war." Caesar smacked again and heard a choked-off whimper. "You were prepared to kill me and my kind." He paused, waiting for Preacher to relax his bottom, and then swatted him again.

"You spared me." The admission was followed by what sounded like a sob.

"Apes don't kill for sport. We kill to protect what is ours. We kill for survival. _Humans_ torture and kill. Koba chose to kill your kind because of what they did to him." Caesar paused speaking and begin smacking. While he controlled his strength, the swats were harder and he very quickly had Preacher shifting and writhing on his lap.

"I wouldn't have…."

The human cut himself off, but Caesar finished his sentence for him. "You wouldn't have run those kinds of tests on him. Tormented him. But you stood by and did nothing when my people were enslaved. You let the Colonel kill your kind and mine."

Preacher held himself still and then he went limp over Caesar's lap. His tears became audible as he sobbed.

Caesar paused, taken aback by the stab of empathy he felt. In a quiet voice, or at least as quiet as he could make it, he said, "You need to reach back and push your underwear down." If he pulled them down himself, he was concerned his claws would shred either the material or Preacher's skin.

Letting out another sob, Preacher reached back and hooked his fingers in the waistband of his underwear. He pushed them down without any hesitation, then pulled his hands back in front of him.

Caesar could see the dark pink spots on Preacher's backside, with reddish marks that might leave bruises. "I'm going to give you twelve more smacks. After that, your punishment will be over. You will be forgiven, by me, and will be free to build a new life with me and my kind, free to move on."

"Yes, sir," Preacher whispered.

Caesar didn't want to drag this out any longer than he had to. Holding Preacher down with one paw, he delivered the final twelve smacks at a carefully controlled force. Each one brought a gasp and moan from Preacher, mingling with his sobs.

By the time the twelve smacks were over with, Preacher's entire bottom was red in colour and he was crying heavily. Caesar lifted his paw and moved it to the human's head, touching his hair. "Your punishment is over with. You have a chance to start over."

Preacher took a deep breath and then slowly pushed himself up, wiping at his eyes before he then tugged his clothing back into place with a wince.

Caesar rested his paw on Preacher's shoulder and brought the human in close for a hug; another learned behaviour.

Preacher stiffened at first, but then leaned into the hug and closed his eyes. His tears wet Caesar's fur, but it wasn't long before the human stopped crying…though he didn't immediately pull away; and Caesar didn't immediately let him go.

 **The End**


	18. The Cost of Peace (Watchmen movie)

**The Cost of Peace**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from the movie Watchmen and I'm not making any money from this fic

 **Summary:** A different method of persuasion is utilised. And someone's sense of guilt is dealt with

 **Warning(s):** Spanking; spoilers for the whole of the movie Watchmen; AU; violence; some discussions of sex

 **Pairings:** Dan/Rorschach/Adrian; minor Dr. Manhattan/Laurie; past Dan/Laurie

 **Author's Note:** Sometimes I think I'm just the mouthpiece for a story and not actually creating it. I didn't intend this to be a romance

* * *

Dan didn't have a clear idea of what he was going to do or say when he followed Rorschach out of the base. He couldn't look at or talk to Adrian. Just because he understood what the man had done, that didn't mean he was able to forgive. Rorschach was right, in a way…but his decision to go public with the information was just going to make matters even worse. Maybe he could talk to him.

It was impossible to tell what Dr. Manhattan was thinking. Adrian claimed to be able to read the tiny twitches of emotion on his face, but Dan couldn't see what the other man did. Maybe he didn't _want_ to.

It was a shock when Rorschach pulled his mask off. Dan hadn't known his real face until recently, but he had a pretty good idea that the mask, to Rorschach, was his true face.

"Do it!" Rorschach yelled at the man who'd once fought alongside them. Fought alongside _all_ of them.

That brought Dan into action. "No!" he yelled, throwing himself in front of Rorschach. As if that would make a difference. As if putting himself between the two men would make any difference if Dr. Manhattan chose to use his power.

"I can't let you tell anyone." Dr. Manhattan looked past Dan, focusing on Rorschach. He raised his hand but then hesitated, focusing on Dan once more.

It felt like his mind was being opened like a book. Dan raised his hand to his head, shaking it as images from his past flashed through his mind's eye. The reasons why he'd joined them. Everything with Laurie. Everything he felt for the rest of them. It should have felt like an invasion, but it seemed more like Dr. Manhattan was searching for something.

"You're a good man, Dan."

"Where the hell are we?" Rorschach's voice ground out.

Dan lowered his hand and looked around, frowning as he took in the red earth surrounding them. There were the remains of a metal contraption all around them and he finally focused on Dr. Manhattan once more. "Why did you bring us to Mars?" He couldn't keep the nervous hint out of his voice.

"We on Mars?" Rorschach looked around and grunted. "You're letting us breathe. How long for?"

"Indefinitely."

Dan glanced at Rorschach, but he'd replaced his mask; and although the shifting shapes were expressive, it was hard to tell what he was thinking. "You're just going to leave us here?" he asked, looking at Dr. Manhattan.

"No. I've brought you here because the alternative is to kill you, Rorschach. I would prefer not to do that."

"You can't make sure I stay silent any other way," Rorschach retorted.

Dan stepped nearer to the man he considered a friend-and hoped Rorschach felt the same about him-placing a hand on his arm. "Don't. If you threaten this peace, he will kill you. I'm not going to let that happen."

Rorschach turned to face him. " _You_ won't let it happen?"

"There is a reason I brought you both here," Dr. Manhattan said.

Dan glanced at him. "Does it have anything to do with why you went through my memories like they were a book for you to read?"

"I had to confirm if I was correct," Dr. Manhattan replied.

"About what?" Dan frowned.

"You can persuade him not to go public with this." Dr. Manhattan's eyes never left Dan's.

" _No one_ is going to 'persuade' me to do anything," Rorschach stated. "You can't keep me here forever. You either kill me or take me back home. And if you do that, I'm going to tell everyone the truth. There is only one way to keep me quiet."

Dan moved closer to Rorschach, though he didn't touch the other man. "What are you expecting me to do?"

"I don't need to tell you that." Dr. Manhattan looked distant and then vanished.

Rorschach stared at the spot where the other man had stood; or at least that's what it looked like he was doing. He then turned to look at Dan. "Does he expect us to wait here until he comes back?"

That wasn't why Dr. Manhattan had left the two of them there alone. The trouble was, it was impossible to figure out what he'd seen that made him so convinced Dan would figure out the right thing to say, or do, to get Rorschach to keep quiet.

"Why are you taking this so calmly?" Rorschach demanded, rounding on Dan. "We're prisoners here. Even if we can breathe, there's no food. Water. We die here."

Dan didn't say anything. He couldn't, because he'd realised. A memory had come to the forefront of his mind. The last time someone had taken it upon themselves to correct his behaviour. Ironically, it hadn't been either of his parents. And it wasn't because he'd done something dangerous, but more because he'd felt so guilty when he'd failed. People had died because he hadn't stopped the Comedian.

Pushing away the thought of failure then and now, Dan watched Rorschach as the other man began poking around the corpse of the metal contraption. Okay. He knew what Dr. Manhattan _wanted_ him to do. The question was, why wasn't _he_ doing it? Why hand the responsibility to Dan, of all people? He must have seen it would work, but Dan couldn't envision a scenario where he _didn't_ end up bleeding and with a few broken bones for his trouble.

"What was he talking about?" Rorschach asked suddenly.

What would happen if Dan refused to follow Dr. Manhattan's direction? But the alternative was letting Rorschach die; which wasn't really an option. "Damn." He pulled off his mask. "He doesn't want to kill you, Rorschach. That's why he's left us here. He thinks I can talk you into agreeing to keep quiet."

Rorschach turned away. "Compromised once. Won't make that mistake again," he ground out.

Shaking his head, Dan took a couple of steps closer and reached out, grabbing Rorschach's arm. "You don't understand! He won't _let_ you tell anyone. Bringing you here and leaving you with me? He's trying to save your life."

Rorschach lowered his head to Dan's hand on his arm and then raised it back to him. "Let go."

Dan took a deep breath and shook his head. "I can't. Dr. Manhattan thinks I can talk you down. Maybe you still won't listen, but I have to try. I'm not going to let you get yourself killed. And even if we _could_ live here indefinitely, we'd end up killing each other pretty quickly."

"If you don't let me go, I break your arm."

"You would have done that already." Dan gripped Rorschach tight around the arm. "You won't raise a hand against me, because I'm going to _save_ you. And I'm your friend."

"I don't have friends."

Dan shrugged. "I'm still yours." Rorschach hadn't pulled away and he pulled the other man closer to himself. He could feel the tension in his friend's body and figured it was going to be hard for Rorschach not to fight him. He wasn't going to be able to take the other man over his knee. He led him over to the metal contraption and pushed on his back until he was bending forward over one of the beams.

As Dan pushed the coat to one side, he could feel how tense Rorschach was. Lifting his hand, he slapped it down on the other man's backside. The dull sound echoed again and again as he continued the firm smacks.

Rorschach didn't move. Didn't make a sound. He didn't try to get up, but Dan had the feeling he was fighting the urge to punch him. Stepping back and rubbing a hand wearily over his face, Dan said, "Get up. Hand me your belt."

"No."

It wouldn't work. Not like this. Dan sighed. "I can't make you see things differently, Rorschach. But I _am_ going to make sure you have something to think about." He hesitated. "I'm not going to let Dr. Manhattan kill you to keep you quiet. Even if that means we live here for the rest of our lives. _I'm not going to let you die_."

Rorschach straightened up and turned round to face Dan. It was impossible to tell what the other man was thinking, but the ink blots on his mask kept shifting. "You aren't my friend," he said; not harshly or with any emotion, just as if he was stating a fact. "You don't know everything about me."

"Do you think I have to know _everything_ to think you're my friend?" Dan responded. "I don't know everything about Laurie."

"You've got her in your bed."

It wasn't the crudest term Dan had ever heard, but he still winced at the description. "We were friends before then. I didn't just jump into bed with her. And talking about Laurie isn't going to change that _this_ needs to happen."

"You aren't the first person to think you can 'change' how I act."

"I'm not looking to change you," Dan replied. He sought around in his mind and finally settled on, "I'm going to _prove_ to you that you're my friend. That I'm not going to let you walk off and get yourself killed."

"Because you think you're my friend."

"I _know_ I'm your friend." Dan took a step nearer to him. "I know you. I understand you." With every word he spoke, he stepped even closer to Rorschach, until they stood toe-to-toe with each other. "Not just a friend." The admission was voiced in a whisper as he reached out, touching the edge of the mask.

Rorschach jerked back.

"I'm not going to pull it off." Dan let his hand land gently on Rorschach's shoulder, drawing the other man closer. Rorschach held himself stiff, but didn't pull away as Dan began to peel the mask up; just enough to expose his jaw. His mouth. His lips.

The kiss was tentative. Hesitant. Unsure. Dan held himself stiff, in case he was pushed away or punched. Rorschach knew more than him; enough that he could have him bleeding and broken on the ground in a moment. He didn't really relax until he felt Rorschach's lips yield under his, the other man's mouth opening slightly.

Pulling back, Dan realised the problem with how he'd intended to punish Rorschach. He didn't know much about the other man's life growing up, but how he'd planned the spanking was so much less personal than he'd experienced when on the other end. "I was wrong," he said out loud.

Rorschach's shoulder stiffened under Dan's hand. "Wrong?"

"Not about this. About the way I was going to punish you. Spank you. I'm not going to use a belt. I'm not going to bend you over something. Only my lap." Dan brushed his thumb over Rorschach's lips and then peeled the mask back down. For a moment, he thought about asking Rorschach if he felt the same way about him. Then he decided it didn't matter. He didn't need to hear it. The fact he hadn't been pushed away was answer enough.

Rorschach wasn't stiff and tense the way he had been a few moments earlier. Dan carefully removed the other man's trench coat before he sat down on the dusty earth, tugging Rorschach down and then drawing him across his lap. He wasn't bent over as such, instead lying flat.

Dan let his hand rest on Rorschach's lower back, rubbing gently. He'd chosen to completely switch how he was dealing with the other man, figuring gentleness would be more likely to get through to him than being harsh and stern would. After all, both of those traits were such a large part of Rorschach's personality.

The first smack made Dan jump, taking him by surprise at how loud it was. He swallowed and stared at the back of the hat the other man wore, reminding himself of why he was doing this. The next smack was harder and firmer and he delivered the next several at the same force, each slap echoing dully over Rorschach's pants.

"You're not going to talk me into staying quiet like this," Rorschach ground out.

"You're right." Dan gently squeezed Rorschach's thigh. "It's time to change things up." He tugged the other man's pants down and, after a brief hesitation, tugged his underwear down as well.

The next circuit of smacks were louder and Rorschach jerked when Dan began targeting his thighs and sit spots. He continued until Rorschach's bottom was a light pink all over, then rested his hand on the heated backside. "You're not alone, Rorschach. You were once, but we started working together and even then, before we joined everyone else, you had a responsibility to me. To not get yourself hurt. You should have trusted me with your identity."

"This _is_ my identity."

"I know." Lifting his hand once more, Dan resumed swatting, putting more force behind the smacks. "But I trusted you with both. You should have done the same."

"You didn't _need_ to see anything but my true face…."

"It's not about that." Dan paused speaking to deliver some sharper swats, hearing a barely-held-back gasp in response. "It's about trust. Friendship." He paused. " _Love_."

"Love isn't real. Just lies the foolish and weak tell themselves and each other to control and give meaning to their lives," Rorschach stated, a strained note to his voice. "I don't…care. About you. About anything but doing the right thing. You all want to compromise. People are _dead_ because of Adrian."

"People have died because of me too," Dan said. "I might not have killed them myself, but they're dead because of me. I can't bring them back. No matter what I do. So I make their deaths _mean_ something. Adrian isn't evil. He did what he thought was right."

"He played God."

"He gave the world a mutual enemy. An enemy that isn't a true one, but they've stopped fighting each other." Dan gently rubbed Rorschach's back, telling himself it didn't matter what the other man said. Rorschach _did_ care. If he didn't, he wouldn't have concerned himself with warning Dan he might be in danger. Or wanting them to continue working together. "But there are still enemies to fight. Still people who need protecting. You might not care about _me_ , but you care about _them_. I won't let you take away another protector." He lifted his hand.

"How are you…going to keep us _both_ in check?"

Dan paused, hand hovering in midair. It hadn't even occurred to him that taking Rorschach in hand might also mean he'd be expected to do the same to Adrian. But then again, he'd said it himself. Adrian wasn't a monster. When the dust settled and he allowed himself to feel…would he ever be able to forgive himself? "Don't worry about that," he replied. "It's _my_ responsibility. Not yours." He began swatting again.

"You can't just decide that." Rorschach gave what sounded like a groan.

"You could stop me. If you wanted to. If you thought I didn't have any right to do this, to make you answer to _me_ , you would be fighting me." Dan continued to spank the bare backside across his knee, the skin turning a darker pink, almost red, under his punishing palm. He could hear Rorschach gritting his teeth, but rather than spank harder, he asked, "Why aren't you fighting me?"

Rorschach was quiet for a moment or two, his feet making tiny jerking movements, before he answered, "You kissed me."

"You weren't fighting me before, either." Dan began focusing the smacks to Rorschach's sit spots. "You were going to let me spank you." Until he'd talked about using the belt. But even then, Rorschach hadn't stood up straight away. Hadn't resisted. Hadn't….

"I don't want to have sex with men."

Dan paused, a bit taken aback. "Neither do I."

"Your lips didn't fall on mine."

"You're different, Rorschach. You…." Dan hesitated. "I don't just want to have sex with you. I want to spend time with you. Not just fighting alongside you. I don't want you to die." His voice dropped lower. "Dr. Manhattan isn't going to let us leave here until he's certain you won't tell. Otherwise he has to kill you. Take you out of _my life_."

"We'll go back and you'll go back to Laurie. I'll go back on the streets," Rorschach ground out. "Maybe you call me for a night. If I'm lucky. We're attracted to each other. Doesn't mean you want me in your life."

Dan's hand came to rest on Rorschach's backside. He could feel the warmth coming from the chastised skin, but he couldn't help wincing at the other man's words. Of course Rorschach didn't believe him. "Laurie isn't you. We go back home? I…I know Laurie doesn't want to leave Dr. Manhattan. Not really." What had happened between them was little more than two friends needing to comfort each other. "I want you to move in with me." He cleared his throat. "To stay."

"And what about Adrian? Is he going to be part of this 'happy families'?"

Dan closed his eyes and sighed. It was going to be hard enough forming a relationship with Rorschach. Quite apart from the man's own tendencies, he knew full well that they would have to be careful in public. If he considered his own feelings for Adrian too…. "What do you think?"

"Won't be an easy job. Maybe impossible." Rorschach pushed himself up off Dan's lap. "He needs to be punished." He tugged his pants back into place and then picked up his trench coat, slipping it back on. "Should call Dr. Manhattan. Probably knows already."

Dan stood up. "Does that worry you?"

"Being worried won't change what just happened."

"And what will happen again in the future, if necessary." Reaching out, Dan spun Rorschach round to face him. There was a much more relaxed set to the other man's shoulders when Dan rolled his mask up and kissed him long and lingering. He could taste the faintest hint of salt on the other man's lips and wondered what had brought the tears forth.

"I have not told Adrian what you intend."

Dr. Manhattan's voice didn't take Dan by surprise. He'd been expecting it. He pulled back from Rorschach and turned to face the third man. "Is this really you, or one of your mirror images?"

"Does it matter?" Dr. Manhattan replied. "When I divide myself, I can see and hear everything." He paused. "Adrian believes you are going to kill him. He's prepared for it. He's accepted it. What you intend is something impossible for him to contemplate or anticipate."

"Will he accept it?" Dan asked, moving a bit closer to Rorschach, letting his hip brush against the other man's.

"Do what you think is right," Dr. Manhattan replied.

The next moment, Dan blinked as he, Rorschach and Dr. Manhattan appeared back in what Dan could only consider the villain's base. Laurie and Adrian were both there and he didn't miss the quick glance Adrian gave towards them before his face became set and he tensed himself, as if expecting a blow.

Rorschach shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'll wait for you outside," he said shortly to Dan.

Dan watched Rorschach walk out of the base and then looked at Dr. Manhattan and Laurie. Even now, he could see that Laurie only had eyes for Dr. Manhattan.

"I will leave to find another galaxy, one that is more peaceful than here," he said to Laurie. "I'd like you to come with me."

Laurie smiled, but then hesitated, glancing towards Dan.

"It's all right. Go with him." Dan smiled reassuringly. He didn't know if Laurie would accept his feelings for Rorschach and Adrian and he didn't want to argue with her before she left. "I'll be fine." He glanced at Adrian, who had lowered his head and added, " _We'll_ be fine."

Laurie's smile grew wider and she stepped over to Dan, giving him a tight hug that he returned. "I'll miss you," she whispered.

"Take care of yourself." Dan kissed her cheek and then let her go, nodding to Dr. Manhattan. "I know most people aren't going to want you around, but I know you can come and visit us any time you need to."

"Thank you, Dan. And good luck." Dr. Manhattan wrapped his arm around Laurie once she reached his side and the two of them disappeared in a flash of blue light.

"Are you going to turn Rorschach loose on me now, Dan?" Adrian asked calmly. "I'm surprised he's waiting outside. Or are you going to get your own hands dirty?"

"No one's going to attack you. Or try to kill you."

"I find that very hard to believe. I know how Rorschach thinks. You can't control him, Dan. If he's choosing not to go public, it's because he intends to kill me." Adrian glanced towards the door and then at Dan, though he didn't make eye contact. "I was willing to sacrifice other lives for this cause. I expected my own would be forfeit."

"Acting the martyr doesn't suit you."

Dan turned and frowned when he saw Rorschach striding towards him. "I thought you were going to let me handle this."

"I'm not going to watch," Rorschach answered, stopping next to Dan. "But I thought you'd need help making him submit."

It only took a slight step to allow Dan to rest his side against Rorschach's, feeling the other man's body heat. He didn't take his eyes off Adrian and he didn't tell Rorschach to leave either. He didn't think Adrian would fight him, but he'd be even less likely to faced with two of them. "I'm not going to fight you, Adrian. I'm going to punish you."

" _Punish_ me?" Adrian shook his head, a trace of amusement on his face. "For what? Bringing about world peace? Stopping a nuclear war?"

Dan felt Rorschach stiffen next to him and he quickly squeezed the other man's upper arm. He could feel the tension there and he held back a sigh. Once this was over, maybe the three of them would be able to get past their hangups. Eventually. "I know this wasn't easy for you. You're talking about the greater good, but being responsible for the deaths of so many people isn't something you can just brush off." Letting go of Rorschach, he stepped up to Adrian. "I'm not going to kill you or hurt you permanently. Rorschach isn't. But I _am_ going to punish you."

Adrian took a slow, deep breath and closed his eyes. Watching him carefully-Adrian wasn't as likely to take his arm off as Rorschach, but he could still react badly-Dan reached out, grasping the other man's shoulder and pulling him in closer.

"What are you doing?" Adrian asked, opening his eyes.

Kissing Adrian was different to kissing Rorschach. His lips were softer and aside from a barely-stifled gasp, he didn't resist and in fact returned the kiss, with interest, faster than Rorschach had. Dan could feel the third member of their group watching, but he didn't know what Rorschach thought.

"Is that supposed to be a punishment?" Adrian touched his lips, an almost dazed look on his face, as Dan pulled back.

"No. That was to show how I feel about you." Hesitatingly, Dan added, "And to get an idea of how _you_ feel about me."

"I trust that query has been answered to your satisfaction." Adrian glanced past Dan. "How does Rorschach fit in with this? With _us_?"

Dan glanced over his shoulder at Rorschach, wondering how the other man saw himself. Saw _them_. He wasn't even sure Rorschach felt the same about Adrian, or if he'd decided to accept him simply because he thought that was the price he had to pay if he wanted to be with Dan.

"I've never been attracted to anyone," Rorschach said. "Man or woman…the only people I felt anything like that for? Has been you both."

Dan looked at Adrian, not sure how to respond to Rorschach's sudden honesty. He watched as Adrian closed his eyes and nodded, before opening his eyes and looking at Rorschach. "Then I'm sorry. That you see me differently now," he whispered.

Rorschach shook his head. "Agreed to let Dan punish you. Then there'll be an end to it."

Adrian focused his full attention back on Dan, an almost hopeful look on his face. He spread his arms out and turned his face to the side, tensing his body. "There are still things I need to do, so will you please avoid breaking any bones?"

"I'm not going to beat you, Adrian." Dan decided not to draw this out any longer. He stepped up to Adrian and reached out, grasping his hand and drawing him close to himself. He looked around and then sat down on the top step, pulling the other man down next to him.

Adrian didn't fight when Dan encouraged him to lay across his lap. He gave a tiny sound that might have been a sigh or a groan, but settled into place without a word of protest.

Dan brought his hand down in a firm smack and felt Adrian jerk slightly. He forced himself to repeat the swat, on top of the first, and then delivered a third swat in the exact same place. He continued in that vein down to Adrian's thighs, shifting him forward to expose his sit spots to the swats.

When Dan began swatting again from the top, he heard a barely held back whimper from Adrian. By the time he reached Adrian's thighs the second time, the other man was shifting from side to side, beginning to breathe heavily.

Dan tugged Adrian's pants down, exposing his boxers, and began to swat again, this time going a fraction harder and faster. By the time he'd completed a further two circuits, Adrian's legs were beginning to jerk and he was gasping with every third smack. Dan could feel the heat through the thin fabric of his underwear. Taking a deep breath, he began to tug the underwear down as well.

"Dan, please…." Adrian whispered.

Rorschach stepped to his side before Dan could respond. "You are responsible for the deaths of many," he said harshly. "You don't deserve mercy."

Adrian slumped over Dan's lap, a quiet sob escaping him. Dan winced, but forced himself to tug the boxers down. Adrian's bottom and thighs were already flushed red, but he began to whimper as Dan continued the pattern of swats, not stopping until it was virtually impossible to distinguish the individual marks.

Dan paused, listening to the quiet tears from the man over his lap. Hearing the other man crying affected him more than he'd realised it would, but he knew he had to finish this. Sliding his hand under Adrian's stomach, he undid his belt and pulled it through the loops. He doubled the belt in his hand and spoke quietly. "I'm going to give you a dozen stripes. After, your punishment will be over. And I'll forgive you."

Adrian gave a sort of half-jerky nod before asking, "Rorschach?"

Rorschach crouched down and reached out to touch his cheek with one hand. "Still don't agree with your actions, but nothing will bring them back. Same is true for me."

Adrian pressed his face into Rorschach's hand. "Then please finish it, Dan?" he requested, adding in a whisper, "So I can be forgiven by the two people who really matter."

Dan gently rested his hand on Adrian's back, rubbing a moment or two, before bringing the belt down. He winced at the loud snap it made and Adrian jumped as a darker line appeared at the crest of his bottom.

After three strikes, Adrian's sobs became fully audible. After half a dozen, his hand swept back and would have resulted in the belt landing where it shouldn't, if Rorschach hadn't grabbed his hand and held onto it.

By the time Dan had forced himself to give the promised dozen stripes, Adrian was limp and sobbing across his lap. He dropped the belt like it was a snake and then stroked Adrian's back. "Your punishment is over now," he said gently. "I forgive you."

Rorschach let go of Adrian's hand, but sat down on the step next to Dan as Adrian carefully pushed himself up. He wiped at his eyes, red and wet with tears.

Dan reached out and gave a quiet sigh as Adrian almost sank into his arms. He tightened his embrace for a moment and then let go with one arm, reaching out to hold onto Rorschach's hand.

"Think we could go somewhere a little more comfortable?" Rorschach asked.

"We'll need to go somewhere that's relatively private," Dan said. "Society isn't going to make it easy for the three of us to be together."

"Do you regret it?" Adrian asked quietly.

"No." Dan looked at the two men he was holding onto and gave a real, sincere smile. "Not even a little."

 **The End**


	19. Forgiveness (The Circle trilogy)

**Forgiveness**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from The Circle trilogy (and its companion Green) and I'm not making any money from this fic

 **Summary:** Elyon, as Justin, knows how to respond to the needs of those he created

 **Warning(s):** Spanking; some references to violence; major spoilers for Red and Black from the Circle trilogy; minor spoilers for White and Green

 **Author's Note:** I write in a lot of obscure fandoms and I suspect those who have read my fics won't be familiar with this book trilogy.

The Circle is a Christian fantasy trilogy by Ted Dekker that follows the path of a man named Thomas Hunter as he finds himself entering a fantasy world in his dreams. Our world is faced with a looming threat that will see most of the world's population dead in the matter of weeks. But the green forest of Thomas' dreams isn't exactly a safe haven and things progress from bad to worse.

Elyon is the Creator. God. And the book itself mirrors a lot of the story of my faith. Generally, I steer clear of writing fan fiction involving the characters meant to represent the God I believe in and follow personally (that's why I don't write Chuck very much in the Supernatural fandom), but this idea was one that niggled at me the first time I read the trilogy; and having re-read book two, I felt more drawn to write this.

Once again, shameless plugging for my book Ice Warriors: Key of Midgard. It is available in both Kindle and paperback format and it would help a lot if I could kick sales up and get the word spread through reviews and the like. In fact, I would be willing to provide a digital copy of the book in exchange for an honest review. Even a negative review would be a tremendous help, as I feel I can always do better as a writer.

Wow, that was a long author's note. Apologies for that. If you don't mind Christian fiction (or are a Christian who likes reading fantasy), I think Ted Dekker is an author who writes very well. I have a lot of books by him and I've just ordered another one.

* * *

He couldn't sleep.

Everyone else was breathing peacefully. The children were the better off. They knew the danger of the Horde, but they hadn't faced it personally. Johan had been as innocent as them. Once. Before Tanis ate the fruit. Before he grew up. Before he let the disease overtake him. Before he committed an act so horrific, their very water had rebelled against it.

 _He'd struck the killing blow to Elyon._

 _That_ was why he couldn't sleep. The disease had overtaken his mind as surely as it had encompassed his body, but _it had still been his hand_. Never mind that Justin had known what would happen. Known he would die. Known….

Johan squeezed his eyes shut, but it didn't stop the tears trickling out of his eyes and down his cheeks. When he'd been Martyn, he wouldn't have cried like this. He would have kept it inside, knowing he couldn't show any sign of weakness. To _any_ of them, but especially not to their leader.

He didn't need to hold back anymore.

Turning his face away from the others in their small camp, Johan let himself cry fully. He closed his eyes and remembered the sword in his hand. The blade slicing the flesh of Justin. His creator. Elyon. _The boy_.

The tears fell silently but hot. Even if his eyes had been open, he wouldn't be able to see. Could he have changed anything? Doubtful. He hadn't been able to bear the screaming as the disease had spread over Justin's body. The plan had been to defile the lake with the blood of an innocent man. But Justin hadn't only been innocent.

His maker's blood was on Johan's hands.

With that thought, his tears came harder. His whole body shook and he choked on his sobs. He'd been forgiven. But he didn't deserve it. He couldn't forgive _himself_. Better that he'd fallen on his own sword than raised it to Elyon. Better that he'd die than betray his creator.

There was movement in the camp and Johan hurriedly wiped at his eyes, breathing deep to try and halt his sobs. The attempt failed when he felt warm arms wrap around him. He was drawn back against someone's chest, but it wasn't in him to fight. He remembered being a boy. He remembered before everything had gone so terribly wrong, when he'd felt secure in his life. In being loved and loving in return. He'd had to grow up, but as he sobbed and was held so close and tight, he felt like the boy again.

"I'm here, Johan," a voice whispered in his ear. "I won't leave you."

 _Justin!_ Johan's eyes flew open and he twisted round, half-expecting to see nothing. A mirage. Water to a dying man in the desert.

Justin's face was close to Johan's own. There was strength in the arms he had wrapped around him. Strength and gentleness. _The lion and the lamb._ Johan sniffed and cuddled close, wishing he could wrestle with Justin the way he had with the boy as a child. Playing.

It seemed so long ago now.

Gradually, Johan's storm of weeping abated, though the guilt still sat like a heavy weight in his chest. Justin's arms didn't imprison him, but he didn't deserve it. Love. Forgiveness. He didn't deserve _anything_. "You should have killed me."

"Johan…how could I kill my love?" Justin whispered tenderly back.

" _I_ killed _you_."

Justin pressed a kiss to the side of his head. "It was meant. Teeleh stole you from me. This was the only way I could bring you back."

"I was meant to stab you?" Johan couldn't hide his confusion.

"Don't pull away from me."

He hesitated. "I'm not."

Justin touched Johan's chest, over his heart. "I love you. I forgive you," he said plainly. "But your guilt is a barrier between us. It will fester and it will cause you to turn away from the circle if left unchecked. Like a wound left untreated."

Johan shook at Justin's quiet words of understanding. He swallowed and shook, pressing closer to the man who loved him. Who'd made him. Who'd _died_ for him. "Help me," he whispered.

Justin lifted his hand and kissed it. "I love you, Johan. You are mine," he whispered. "Even before you followed me out of the Horde, my love never wavered. It will _never_ waver."

Johan swallowed and looked into Justin's emerald eyes. But he could only meet the gaze for a moment; the love and tenderness overwhelmed him and he had to look down, too overcome to speak. His eyes filled again.

"I love you, Johan."

Johan tried to find the words to respond, but it didn't seem to be enough. A quiet, choked-off sob escaped him when Justin's strong arms moved him, turning him face-down across his lap. _His strength…._ How could Johan have seen him as anything other than Elyon?

"I'm not punishing you." The quiet voice sounded above Johan as he lay across Justin's lap, holding his breath. "I've forgiven you for your actions. For raising your hand to me. Just like I've forgiven each one of you who followed me."

Swallowing, Johan forced himself to breathe and listen to Justin's quiet voice. There was no fight in him as his leggings were lowered. He felt vulnerable, but that wasn't because of the position he was currently in. He was humbled and weakened by the love in Justin's words and actions. Somehow, it felt right to be _this_ vulnerable. _This_ exposed to his maker.

When the first smack landed, just this side of stinging, Johan's eyes filled with tears again. He closed his eyes as more were delivered. They stung, but the pain wasn't unbearable. They certainly didn't hurt as much as the image of Justin's beaten and broken body hanging over the lake. The image of his own blade stabbing into his maker. His creator. He owed Elyon _everything_ , but all he'd given in return for love was scorn and hate. How was he any better than the rest of the Horde?

"You answered my call." Justin responded to the unvoiced question. "I told you to remember me _and you did_."

Johan fought the tears that streamed down his cheeks. "I should have remembered before," he whispered to the ground.

"No. You remembered at exactly the right time. When you were meant to. I know the guilt is crushing you, Johan. But you don't need to suffer it. I forgave you even before you made the choice. My forgiveness, _my love_ , has been waiting for you to acknowledge and accept it."

Justin could probably have been smacking him harder. The swats stung; moreso when a new round began. Johan lay limp across Justin's knees, accepting each smack. Against his will, each time Justin's hand landed, it made the images less clear. He forgot the details. How could he forget the sight of his maker's broken body? How could he let go of his guilt, when his crime had been so much worse?

A few smacks to his thighs made Johan whimper. He was teetering on the edge and knew he would fall. _Give in_. And he didn't deserve it. Didn't deserve to be loved and forgiven. Didn't deserve his maker seeing to him personally. Treating him like he was something to be cherished, rather than cast away like he deserved.

"I love you."

Johan blinked, swallowed and felt his breath hitch.

"I forgive you."

Johan closed his eyes as other memories began to overlay those of Justin's broken body. The boy. His world split in half just because his maker wanted to play with them and show them his creation. Secure in Elyon's love. The lake. Swimming. Laughing. Singing. " _I love you_!" His voice cracked, but the words still rang true. He began to sob harder. "I wish I…could go back."

"I know," Justin whispered. "But this is still not the end. No matter how difficult it is, as long as you stay true, everything will be worth it."

"Please don't leave me," Johan whispered helplessly. "Never again. _Please_."

The spanking stopped. Justin's hand tugged his leggings back into place; turned him over in his arms; hugged him tight. "Even when you can't see me, I won't ever leave you," he whispered.

Johan clung tightly, gripping Justin's shirt in both hands. "I love you." Calming enough not to cling so desperately, he let go with one hand and took Justin's hand, kissing it. "I love you. And you love me." His voice was quiet and filled with so much childlike wonder, he almost couldn't believe it belonged to him.

Justin kissed his cheek. His forehead. "You are mine, Johan. Never lose sight of it." He wiped the tears staining Johan's cheeks with his thumbs. "You must sleep, dear one. You will make yourself sick otherwise."

"You'll be gone when I wake up," Johan said with calm certainty.

"Just because you won't be able to see me it doesn't mean I won't be here." Justin pulled back the thin blanket and helped Johan to settle down, stroking his hair. "I love you."

Johan reached out and closed his hand around Justin's other. "I won't ever leave you," he promised, his voice a whisper as he closed his eyes.

The last thing he felt before sleep took him was Justin kissing his forehead. The last thing he heard was his maker's whispered, "I love you."

* * *

Thomas wasn't sure when he'd woken exactly. He'd heard Johan's tears and had intended to get up and walk over to him; to see if there was anything he could do or say that would make Johan feel any better. But then he'd realised someone else had got there first.

Justin would have known Thomas was awake. He was certain of that. But Justin had kept his full attention on Johan, right up until the man had allowed himself to be tucked into his sleeping roll, as if he were still a child, and his breathing had evened and deepened into true sleep.

Then, finally, Justin moved. Leaning over to place a kiss on Johan's brow, just as if he were a father sending his son off to sleep. He then straightened and walked soundlessly towards Thomas' own sleeping roll.

Swallowing, Thomas tried to meet the emerald eyes. Tried and failed. He wasn't worthy to look on Elyon. Justin. The two were interchangeable, of course. How hadn't he seen it before?

Justin knelt next to Thomas' sleeping roll and smiled at him. The smile was brilliant, kind and warm. "Thank you, Thomas." Reaching for his hand, he kissed it.

Thomas swallowed and resisted the urge to burrow into Justin's warmth the way he'd once wholeheartedly thrown himself into Elyon's lake. "I don't understand why you're thanking me," he whispered. "For betraying you? For my hand in your…death?" He swallowed hard and looked away. "I should be the one thanking you."

"You followed me, Thomas. You had faith in me. You dove into the lake because you trusted in me. There was nothing more I could ask for you than your faith, love and trust."

Justin's arms wrapped around him and Thomas leaned. He closed his eyes and tried not to hate himself for doubting so much. "I love you." Saying the words to Elyon should have filled him with joy. His creator was holding him. Justin lived. He was forgiven. And yet….

"And yet you suffer because of the guilt," Justin whispered in his ear.

Thomas closed his eyes. "Are you going to treat me the same way you did Johan?"

"I love you, Thomas," Justin whispered back. "I'm not going to hurt you, but just as a healer might have to cause pain to help their patient to heal…."

"I know." Thomas opened his eyes and took a deep breath; reached for Justin's hand. Held it. "I'm sorry. I could say it a thousand times and it would never be enough."

"And I would reassure you of my forgiveness a thousand and one times and never grow tired of it." Justin's fingers curled round Thomas' hand. "I love you," he said again. "I won't leave you alone for this guilt to hurt you," he whispered.

Thomas didn't know if he could let go to the level he'd heard Johan give in. He felt Justin grasp his shoulders and he was drawn firmly forward over Elyon's knees, his stomach dropping as he was positioned.

"I love you, Thomas."

As the sincere words rang out above him, Thomas squeezed his eyes tightly shut as his leggings were lowered, leaving him exposed. Vulnerable. Entirely in Justin's hands. His _maker's_ hands.

When the first hard swat fell, it made Thomas jump. Not because it was especially hard or painful, but because of how it left him feeling. When they'd first met, Justin had placed himself under Thomas' command. In reality, it should have been the other way round.

The swats were methodical, stinging Thomas' backside. He closed his eyes and made himself breathe but his throat felt raw. His eyes gritty. Tears weren't far off.

"I know how much this is tearing you up inside, but you will become hard and bitter and cold if you will not let go of your pain and guilt," Justin said seriously, his hand serving as an emphasis to what he was saying.

The spanking wasn't anything like the worst pain Thomas had experienced. His bottom and thighs were warming and stinging under the rhythmic smacks, but Justin wasn't _hurting_ him.

Not like Thomas knew he deserved. Not like Elyon had hurt.

"I would never hurt you, Thomas."

Thomas swallowed and forced himself to ask, "Not even when I went against my better judgement and fought you?" He stared at the grass with eyes that blurred with tears. "You told me once I should see you fight."

"It wasn't the right time for you to know," Justin replied. "You weren't supposed to recognise me."

"Didn't it…hurt?" Thomas whispered. He remembered the cries in the lake. Elyon screaming and the cells of his own body screaming along with their maker. "We owe you everything and _none of us_ gave you what you deserved."

Justin didn't respond. Not with words. His other hand rested on Thomas' lower back, rubbing and stroking while his other hand kept up the methodical swatting.

It should have been disconcerting. The silence. All it did was make Thomas very aware of the position he was in. Over Justin's knees, his bottom being spanked. While not unbearable, the heat was growing to be uncomfortable and he was beginning to shift as the slow smacks continued. "I'm sorry," he blurted, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I'm sorry. I would do anything… _anything_ to take it all back."

"You don't need to take it back," Justin whispered. "Only never stray from me. Always love me. And nothing will ever come between us."

"I don't want you to leave," Thomas confessed.

"Never. I won't _ever_ leave you," Justin promised. "You don't need to see me to know I'm there."

Thomas closed his eyes and slumped in relief. He knew he wasn't being punished. The spanking was painful, but it was allowing him to forgive himself. What had happened to Justin…to _Elyon_...was terrible and awful. But his maker was here. Forgiving him. _Loving_ him.

The spanking stopped. Justin's hand stilled and the next moment, he had Thomas in his arms, kissing his head. "I love you, Thomas."

Thomas wrapped his arms around Justin, his head gently dropping to his shoulder. "I love you," he whispered in return. "I won't ever betray you again. I promise. I would rather die than ever forsake you again."

"That is not my plan for you." Justin stroked his hair and then gently pulled the blanket back and settled Thomas in, like he was a child. "Sleep now, my love."

Thomas took a deep breath, looking at Justin's emerald eyes. He reached out, took Justin's hand, kissed it. "Thank you," he whispered.

Justin's hand stroked his cheek and the soothing motion sent Thomas into the first true, untroubled sleep he could remember having in fifteen years.

 **The End**


	20. Freedom (Christine)

**Freedom**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from the book Christine by Stephen King, or any TV or movie spinoffs, and I'm not making any money from this fic

 **Summary:** Dennis drags his best friend back

 **Warning(s):** Spanking; spoilers for the entire book Christine by Stephen King; violence; swearing; AU

 **Author's Note:** Wow. I didn't think I could do it, but…twenty fics. Twenty different fandoms. And this is the last one. (I didn't plan this fandom. I just finished reading Christine and felt really bad for Arnie).

I've enjoyed this variety, so I think I'll repeat the exercise and do another twenty fics with the same sort of idea.

* * *

At first, Dennis wasn't sure what to think when he was told Arnie had tried to call him. His first thought was to call his best friend back, but what could he say? What would they talk about? Christine? Leigh? His parents?

Even in his mind, Dennis shied away from _that_ topic.

Dennis had just finished his physiotherapy and he was…well, bored wasn't exactly the right word. That would imply he had nothing to do; and between worrying constantly about what Christine was doing and Arnie's change…he had more than enough on his plate.

He could pretend he hadn't been told. No one would know. Not even Arnie, or the malevolence that drove Christine. Dennis could take a step back, effectively allowing his best friend to drown without so much as offering a hand to pull him out.

But his conscience wouldn't be clear on it.

Dennis sat on his bed – there wasn't much else he could do – gnawed on his lower lip and thought. Except he wasn't thinking. He'd made his decision. Now he was choosing how to go about it.

Would Arnie be with Christine? It was late enough that Dennis figured if he wasn't, he'd be in bed. Asleep. But maybe that was for the best. If he woke up Arnie, his friend might be more likely to listen to Dennis.

So long as the phone didn't also wake up his parents.

His decision made, Dennis grabbed at the phone next to the bed. He fumbled and nearly dropped it, but even though his fingers were slippery with sweat, he managed to bring it to him and dial.

The sound seemed abnormally loud in the quiet of the hospital room. Even though he wasn't actively doing anything wrong, Dennis still kept glancing at the door, half-expecting his doctor or one of the nurses to be framed there.

It was Arnie who answered, the trace of sleepiness in his voice making him sound younger than he truly was. "Mom? Dad?"

Dennis felt a pang that, at being woken up, Arnie's mind would immediately jump to those closest to him. Did his parents know he still cared, underneath the calluses he'd grown? "It's Dennis. I need you to come to the hospital."

"Dennis?" Alarm made Arnie's voice alert and Dennis couldn't help but wince.

He didn't want Arnie awake and alert. He wanted his best friend still half-asleep. Less likely to let that damned car influence him. "Just come to the hospital." His voice was harsh, nearly sharp, but he didn't try to change the tone. If he pushed enough, Arnie wouldn't be able to form a defence. He wouldn't be able to counter. And maybe, just maybe, Dennis stood a chance of getting his friend back.

"Okay, Dennis." Arnie sounded confused but agreeable. "I'll go by the garage and get Christine. Be there as soon as I can. Just hang on, yeah?"

"Yeah." Dennis didn't try to talk him out of picking up Christine. He couldn't antagonise Arnie before his friend even got there. "I'll see you."

There was no response, just a barely audible click as Arnie hung up the phone.

Dennis set the headset back in its cradle and settled back to wait.

* * *

Dennis had only been dozing when he became aware he was no longer alone in the room.

Squinting as he became aware after yet another dream about that car, Dennis felt his heart stutter and then begin pounding harder and faster in his chest, as though it was a rabbit being hunted. Maybe it would stop altogether.

For a second, he didn't see his friend standing there. Instead, what he saw was a skeleton, bones stained a dirty white and with empty eye sockets, wearing nothing but a filthy back brace. Then Dennis blinked and Arnie was back to normal; at least to what passed as normal for him these days.

Looking at Arnie, faced with the demon his best friend had become, Dennis didn't have to ask if Christine was parked outside. Arnie looked like an addict. His body shook and he kept glancing towards the door, even as he took the last few steps needed to bring him next to the bed. "What's wrong?" He twitched as he spoke, casting constant glances over his shoulder.

If Arnie, or the force driving him – whatever the origin of that force might be – hadn't been so distracted, Dennis would never have been able to act. He grasped Arnie's wrist, closing his fingers tight, and pulled his friend forward and off balance. Arnie stumbled and fell, landing across Dennis' stomach.

The air came out of Dennis' lungs with a forceful gasp. Arnie seemed dazed. Confused. He started to push himself up, but Dennis leaned on his back and the movement was halted. "Dennis? Let me up."

The weight of his friend across his stomach left Dennis out of breath, but he didn't dare move Arnie to a more comfortable position. Raising his hand to shoulder height, he brought it down with a smack that had almost his full strength behind it. The result was the dull thump of his hand hitting the seat of Arnie's jeans, a slight sting in his palm and a tiny yip from his friend.

The next smack was harder. Dennis knew Arnie hadn't been spanked by his parents, even though Dennis had shared with his best friend the few times his own father had taken him to the woodshed. But Arnie wouldn't break; and going soft on him wouldn't bring the desired results.

By the time Dennis slapped the top of Arnie's thighs, his palm stung more and was beginning to redden. Apart from that first yip, Arnie hadn't made a sound. Hadn't moved a muscle. He just lay sprawled across Dennis, his body relaxed.

Dennis remembered George telling him about LeBay. How their father had beaten Roland until he cried and still, it had done nothing to change his behaviour. He slid his hand under Arnie's stomach, undoing his friend's jeans and pushing them down to mid-thigh, leaving his white boxers in place.

There wasn't any evidence of the swats Dennis had delivered so far. Arnie lay limp and passive across his stomach, not moving and barely breathing. Then Dennis slipped his fingers into the waistband of Arnie's boxers.

His friend reacted instantly, rearing up like a thing possessed and throwing his hand back in the same movement. "Let go of me, you shitter!"

The sound of the word, so unlike the language his _real_ friend used, made Dennis' jaw tighten and set. Arnie continued to writhe around on him and then dug his nails into Dennis' wrist, gouging deeply into the flesh.

Dennis bit his lip hard, but a slight groan still escaped his clenched teeth. Arnie's fingers weren't flesh anymore, instead the dirty-white of a skeleton. Blood ran down Dennis' arm, trickling onto the white bedsheets, staining them crimson.

The body across his lap was now a skeleton. Dennis swallowed back the acid taste of fear, lifted his hand once more, and brought it down on the bony backside.

His hand didn't meet the hard, solid bone, but found flesh that yielded. The squall was entirely Arnie's as he collapsed back over Dennis, his nails pulling free of skin as he brought both hands in front of him, clasping them together as if in prayer.

An engine revving in the distance made Dennis pause. Arnie squirmed unhappily across him and Dennis stared at the back of his friend's head. "Who are you?"

Arnie breathed deep and then let it out in a sobbing gasp. "He's too strong for me, Dennis. I can't…I don't know how to hold him back."

The sheer desperation in Arnie's voice made Dennis wince. Forcing away his stab of sympathy, ignoring the little voice that pointed out, _This isn't helping him_ , he lifted his hand. Brought it down firmly at the top of Arnie's unprotected right thigh. Repeated the swat on his left.

"Dennis…." Arnie's voice was nearly a whine. "That stings."

The car, _Christine_ , was revving even louder now. Like the buzzing of an angry hornet. Dennis slapped Arnie's thighs again, harder, and his friend jumped.

After a few more smacks, Arnie's voice changed again. "Let go of me, you shitter!"

The voice changed, but Arnie's body didn't. Dennis took that for a good sign and tugged Arnie's boxers down to join his jeans.

Arnie whimpered, but only clasped his hands tighter. Dennis lifted his hand.

Headlights gleamed through the window.

"You can't have him." Dennis didn't realise he was going to speak until his mouth opened and the words came out. "He isn't yours. He isn't LeBay's, either."

"Does that make me _yours_ , then, Dennis?" Arnie asked, a trace of amusement in his voice.

Dennis considered the question seriously, even as he began to swat Arnie's now-bare bottom. "Yeah," he replied, as Arnie's bottom and thighs began to pinken under the firm smacks. "They can't have you. _She_ can't have you. You're stronger than he is."

"No. I'm not." Arnie's voice was high and almost breathless. His body shuddered and shook as his breath hitched, indicating tears weren't far off. "Not…alone. But if you…claim me, it would be a stronger claim than either of them have."

Dennis hesitated, his hand resting lightly on Arnie's bottom. Somehow, he had the feeling that they were teetering on the edge of something. He'd started it by pulling his best friend over and continued when he'd begun spanking Arnie. "You're my best friend, Arnie," he finally said. "You'd better _believe_ I have a stronger claim to you." He lifted his hand and brought it down in a smack that was much harder than before.

Arnie jumped, letting out a hiss and throwing his hand back. "Dennis, please don't…."

"Please don't what?" Dennis demanded, swatting his friend's sit spots. "Please don't hold you accountable? Please don't spank you?" He began focusing more swats to Arnie's thighs.

"Please don't…let me go…." As if those words signalled a dam bursting, Arnie began to cry. "I'm scared." His voice was a whisper; a mere breath of air. "I'm scared of her, Dennis. Please…help me."

Dennis let his hand rest on Arnie's lower back. The headlights were gone. Maybe they'd never been there at all. Certainly, all he could feel was Arnie. His best friend. No longer the stranger so obsessed with his new car. "You aren't going back to the garage, Arnie. I'm not going to let you."

"I can't stay here the whole time."

Dennis delivered a harder smack to Arnie's heated backside and heard him sob. He landed a matching one on the other side and felt his friend slump limply across his stomach. "You might not be here all the time, but I'm going to expect you to only see the people I'm okay with. You check in with me." He delivered a full circuit of smacks and then began rubbing Arnie's warm red bottom. "Have you got it?"

"Are you going to spank me again?" Arnie asked, his voice shaky with tears.

"Yeah. When it's necessary. When you forget who has the strongest claim on you." Dennis firmly patted Arnie's backside. "Are you going to get up?"

"Maybe…not yet," Arnie admitted quietly. "Feels safe. And I'm so tired."

"Okay. Then go to sleep," Dennis murmured. "I'll wake you if anyone comes."

A soft snore was his only response.

 **The End**


End file.
